


Dead or Alive

by Wicked_Wayward_Warrior



Series: Dead or Alive [1]
Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood, Blood and Violence, Cigarettes, Cussing, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Friendship, Gen, Hell, Hellhounds, Love/Hate, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), No Romance, No Smut, Season/Series 10, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior
Summary: Zephyra Nightwolfe returns to the world of Supernatural. It's season 10. Dean has the Mark of Cain, Sam is desperate to save his brother, and Zephyra is on the run from Crowley. As a witch of the Wise Coven, Zephyra has the scoop on spells that no other witches in the world could ever imagine. Zephyra, along with her best friend, Jazzy Baker (Dean's ex-girlfriend), has found a way to create more demon-killing weapons. In an effort to keep Jazzy safe, Zephyra leaves her home in Washington State to find a way to stop Crowley. When all other efforts fail, she decides to call on two old friends, that may or may not also want to kill her. She hopes they can put their differences aside to neutralize a mutual enemy.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Dead or Alive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994362
Kudos: 1





	1. My Fucking Pizza

I was wanted, dead or alive, but from the demon whispers I’d become privy to, Crowley preferred to have me alive. It was the small things that got me by, being on the lam from hell, with nowhere to go. I promised Adam I wouldn't bring any unwanted attention to his pack in Finley, so that wasn't an option. Besides, Jazzy was there, and the more demons and monsters realized she knew what I knew, knew about our bond, she'd be in danger. I couldn't let anything happen to her.

Which left me with few allies and nowhere to go. For a couple of weeks, I made the reckless decision to head back out on the road, keeping to cash and aliases. Crowley made it his business to know me. He knew what I ate for breakfast, what contacts I relied on for information, werewolf packs, witch covens, and vampire nests I'd developed a camaraderie with, and he knew that I was a stickler for good room service.

If I had to stay alive, I'd have to stay under the radar, but I couldn't do that and live my fancy, silk sheet, caviar, Louboutin boots life. For the first time in years, I found myself eating pizza in a motel room in the middle of Amarillo, Texas, with the lights turned off and primetime TV on the tube.

The cardboard box of pizza was flipped open at the bottom of the bed, creating unnecessary heat on my crossed legs. Grease covered my hands as I chewed my third slice. Cheese melted as it touched my tongue, creating thick strings that connected my lips to what was left of my slice. If only my mama could see me now, eating pizza, drinking cheap beer, and hiding from the same monsters I was raised to kill.

Demons, I understood. I knew what killed them, what slowed them down. I'd spent much of my childhood learning what made them tick and how to manipulate them as much as they manipulated everyone else, but Crowley was more than a demon; he was a businessman. And when he realized that I had the knowledge to kill demons, I became a threat.

My phone buzzed on the mattress between my legs. I reached over to the end table and grabbed a napkin to wipe my hands and rushed to chew what was left of the pizza in my mouth before I answered. “Hello,” I said cautiously into the receiver, even though I knew only pack and a couple of witches had my new number.

“Zephyra, where the hell are you?”

Hearing Daryl’s voice coming through the phone made fear prick at the back of my throat. Maybe fear was a strong word, but there was a reason he was second in the pack. He had a presence, a strength that could be felt even through the phone.

My mind relaxed in the comfort of my familiarity with Daryl Zao. He had a reputation for being one of the most overprotective wolves in the pack, playing only second to—surprise, surprise—the Alpha, Adam Hauptman.

It was good to hear from him, even if it was the fiftieth time this week. “I'm in Texas, Daryl.”

“And what the hell are you doing in Texas, Zephyra?” Daryl was the only person to call me by my full name every time he addressed me. I was sure he'd pull out the first-middle-last combo if he knew my middle name. The frantic dad energy in his voice was thick, carrying over the phone line.

I chewed a delicious slice of pepperoni pizza after putting the phone on speaker. I was hungry and I was tired, and with my nerves as frayed as they were, there was no stopping me from stress eating. “Watching TV and eating pizza.”

Daryl groaned on the other end of the line, and I could all but see his head falling into his hands at my daffy response. “Are you safe?”

Cheese and pepperoni slipped down my throat, followed by my homemade sweet tea since Texas still had much to learn about how much sugar belonged in iced tea. “Honestly, probably not. I've been running for weeks, and I don't see any of this stopping.” The “not until I'm dead” hung in the air between us. Neither of us wanted to say it, but it was a prime thought in my mind. And Daryl was brilliant, a fucking engineer, so he had to have known too.

Daryl’s sigh was deep, guttural, and drawn out. As the second of the pack, he often spent hours developing strategies to fight enemies and protect the pack and their families. There was no doubt in my mind that he was doing everything he could to solve my problem.

Except, there was no solving my problem, not without cutting the head off the snake, and the King of Hell was as untouchable as a demon could get.

Daryl’s voice was tired when he spoke. “Just, please, don't miss another check-in, okay?”

I shrugged, nibbling on my pizza. “Daryl, I'll be okay. I've got a burner phone, this beat-up old Beetle Mercy lent me, I mean, who is gonna believe that I’d drive that ugly thing. And I've got Earth, Wind, and Fire on me. Always.”

He chuckled, always amused by the names I'd given to my set of karambits and my custom-made, rose gold, Colt. What could I say? I was a fan of the classics.

A chill ran down my spine like a crashing wave as the phone line went silent. I waited, my breath hitching with anxiety, for Daryl to speak. When he did, my heart fell into my ankles. “Zephyra...”

Slowly, I crawled off the bed, shoving what was left of my pizza box to the floor. “I feel them too,” I whispered.

I tucked the phone into my bra, receiver side up, and grabbed my blades off the mattress. I could feel evil circling around me, even if I couldn't see it yet. There were four, maybe five of them, but they didn't expect me to be ready for them.

Being raised in the Wise Witch Coven, I was taught things that typical witches never even knew about, like how to sense a demon, how to kill it with a spell, and how to forge a demon-killing weapon, like the ones I clasped in my hands. It was why Crowley was after me. It was why he would risk everything to get his hands on me.

I crept across the carpet, thankful that I was too paranoid to undress or slip out of my shoes, and rounded the bottom of the bed to press myself against the window-less side of the motel room. I held my breath, knowing that as soon as that door sprung open, I'd have to act fast. One mistake would be my undoing, and I didn't have space for that.

“Get ready,” Daryl told me, and I was grateful for his excellent senses.

As if on cue, the door swung open, but my hands pushed up against it, allowing only room for one demon to enter. “ _Sigillum,_ ” I screamed, using good old fashioned Latin to spell the door. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would hold for long enough.

The demon spun around, hearing my voice behind him, and lunged for me. Just in time, I ducked back, avoiding the sharp end of his dagger. Crouching down low, I stepped back, laughter tickling the back of my throat. “Ya missed,” I taunted. “But what a shame it would be if you—whoopsie!” I jerked my nose to the left, freeing his blade from his hands and slinging it across the floor.

The demon snarled but straightened his back. “Zephyra Nightwolfe, you bitch!”

I did my best to ignore Daryl's growl. Even in the midst of battle, he hated when demons used profanity to describe any of his charges. But their sass only fueled me, since it was usually coupled with stupidity. “Right back at you, demon number three, or is it, number seven? I don't know, I get you guys confused sometimes.”

I shrugged playfully and tossed one of my blades in the air, the curved blade rotating in perfect form. “Doesn't matter.” The blade landed dead center of the demon’s throat and gold light blasted through his body, gray smoke pouring into the ground beneath him as his body slumped to the ground. “I'm just gonna kill you all anyway.”

“Zephyra!” Daryl growled. I had almost forgotten that he was on the phone with me.

“Dammit, Daryl, be quiet. There's at least three more of them out there. I need to concentrate.”

As soon as I stopped talking, a warm tingle itched at the tip of my nose. Before I had a moment to think or plan, the glass from the window shattered, and showered down on the motel room floor. Catching me off guard, the demon rolled to its feet, swinging its bright red hair back, and used its power to send me flying through the air and into the fridge in the kitchenette.

My head bounced off the fridge and my body slid down, blades slipping onto the ground beside me. I groaned, trying to force the fog in my mind to lift as glass crunched beneath the feet of the demon walking towards me. I could have said a spell, I could have waved it away, but I was losing strength.

I fought to keep my eyes open as the beast stalked their prey. It knelt down in front of me, putting its slender finger under my chin to force eye contact. “The King of Hell will see you now,” it hissed, venom dripping from every word.

My chuckle morphed into a heavy cough from the wind that was knocked out of me from the blow. “You're wrong, number five, he won't be seeing me at all. And, quite frankly, he won't be seeing you either.” I managed to make one swift movement to call my blade to me and shove it up through the demon’s throat. It's body convulsed, consumed with gold light and spitting gray smoke as it crumpled to the ground just like its friend.

My muscles and joints creaked in protest as I pulled myself to my feet. I gripped my karambits tight as I stepped over the demon and stood in the center of the room. I was tired and pissed that my pizza was now covered in glass. These demons ruined my pleasant evening, and now, I was ready to get this shit over with.

“ _Revelare,_ ” I whispered, and the final two stragglers appeared in front of me. Compared to the others, these looked weak and afraid. One dropped to the ground and crawled backward as I stalked it, cowering once it reached the wall.

“No! Don't!” The demon screamed.

I held out my hand to the other one, keeping two fingers on my blade, to prevent it from moving anywhere while I talked to their friend. I crouched down, pressing the tip of my other blade to the demon’s throat. “And why shouldn't I?”

The demon gulped, and the energy from that movement caused my blade to dig deeper into his skin, forcing a sputter of smoke to trickle down the edge of my blade. “Because...” His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other trying to come up with some lie, but he failed. “Because I don't want to die!” he pleaded.

I licked at the sweat on my lip and grinned. “So, how about this, Demon Clyde...”

“My name is Aaron.”

I dug the tip of my blade in deeper. “Don't interrupt me,” I said through gritted teeth. “Like I was saying, Demon Clyde, I've got an idea. I'll spare your life, but only if you do one thing for me.”

The demon began to whimper, filled with fear, and wonder all at the same time. “I'll do whatever you want. I promise.”

“I know you will. Because I'm going to send you back to hell, and you're going to tell your king, that if he sends another band of groupies after me, I'm going to dig my way into hell and gut him myself. Understand?”

The demon nodded frantically, a sure sign of compliance. I stood, focusing on the demon left pressed against the wall, and used my powers to pull it toward me. Their feet dragged across the glass-covered floor as it struggled to fight against my power, but it wasn't possible. I was tired, pissed, and one of the most powerful witches on the fucking planet.

I feigned sadness, a frown on my lips as I pretended to sob and wail. “You know, Demon Franklin, you are the most obedient pet I've ever had!” The demon tried to kick and fight its way out of my grasp. I couldn’t deny its strength, but I was so much stronger. “It's such a shame I have to put you down.”

The demon gurgled. Screams ripped through their throat as I dug my blade into their chest, golden light sparking beneath their skin as they dropped to the ground with a loud thud. Satisfied, I returned my attention to Demon Clyde and recited the exorcism to send him back to hell.

As the demon’s body slumped to the ground, I turned away, searching the glass for my phone; it dropped somewhere between me falling and stabbing. When I found it, the screen was cracked, but it looked like Daryl was still on the line.

“Are you okay?” He asked, frantically, the last bit of self-control clinging to his throat.

I groaned, slipping both my blades into their holsters in my boots and tucking the phone back into my bra. “I'm not fine, Daryl,” I grumbled. “I'm pissed the fuck off!”

“Zephyra, calm down,” he cautioned, but there was no use at this point. It had been weeks since I'd had a full night's sleep, I was driving around in a busted pile of shit, and the fear and paranoia I'd fought so hard to overcome was slipping right back into my mind.

Not to mention my pizza.

My fucking pizza.

Daryl knew this and he understood, but there was nothing he or the pack could do for me now. I had to handle this, and I had to handle it fast. “Papa D, I've gotta run, okay.”

“Zephyra! You don't need to run. You need to come home. We can protect you.”

I shook my head and bit so hard into my lip, it began to bleed. “You know I can't do that. I can't put you and your families at risk. I'll have to head somewhere else.”

“And where do you supposed you'll go?”

At first, I remained quiet. There was one place I was sure Crowley would never suspect me to be. He knew I had connections with other monster communities, and especially with the witches, but he also knew I had a particular aversion to a specific pair of hunters. I sighed, realizing that as much I didn't want to face them again, I was running out of options. And though they didn’t know it, they had a stake in my survival too.

I rubbed at my eyes as I began to dig through the rubble to find my bag and car keys. “Daryl, I've got an idea, but I can't tell you what it is.”

“Why not?” Frustration rang loud in his voice.

“Because the less you and the pack are aware of, the safer you'll be. So, I'm dumping this phone. I'll get a new one on the way, so look out for a text from me, okay?”

“Zephyra...” His patience with me was wearing thin, but I had no other choice but to go even deeper off the grid, and he had no other choice than to let me.

“Make sure Adam doesn't go fucking this up, okay?”

Daryl remained silent. He could have said that he would, but that would have been a lie, and he hated lying, especially to someone he cared about. He was my friend, a mentor of sorts, and I knew he just wanted me safe. And for the same reasons, I was convinced this was the only option for me.

As I headed for the door, I checked the pulse of the person Demon Clyde had been possessing. Pleased to feel their heartbeat at a normal pace, I sighed. “Talk to you soon, Daryl.”

“Be safe out there, Zephyra.”

There was a beep as I disconnected the phone. Using both hands, I snapped it in half and threw it onto the bed. With a quick snap of my fingers, I set it on fire, the blaze setting off the fire alarm and the overhead sprinkler system. As sirens blared, I picked up the body Demon Clyde left behind and drug them out into the parking lot, leaning them up against a parked car that was far enough away I knew they wouldn't get hurt.

I dumped my bag into the backseat of my Beetle and started her up. Fire trucks had already arrived on the scene as I pulled out of the parking lot, red lights flashing in the darkness of night. I watched for as long as I could out my rearview mirror to be sure they contained the fire. Once it was no longer in my sights, I trudged forward toward Lebanon, Kansas.


	2. Make Yourself At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra arrives at the Men of Letters bunker ready to risk it all to get the Winchesters' help.

Few people knew about the bunker’s existence, but since my coven was an integral part of its creation, I knew where all the chapter houses existed and the intricate, individual spells that could be used to open them. It wouldn’t take much for me to open the door and sneak my way into the bunker, jumping out like a ghost at just the right time. Forcing my way through the doors with a smug grin and grand dramatics was another option. But since I'd never really gotten along with the brothers, I decided that busting in with all my glory and arrogance was the worst possible option.

My Beetle sputtered to a halt as I parked it on the dirt road that led to the bunker. Hot air stuck to my hair and cheeks as soon as I stepped out, my canvas bag hanging heavy on my shoulder. I'd never been to any of the bunkers except for the one my coven used in Charleston, but they all housed the world's most precious information about monsters, demons, heaven, gods, and Hell.

Normally, this bunker would be impossible to find. Witches and Men of Letters worked hard to keep their bunkers hidden from demons, monsters, angels, and even God himself, and for decades it worked. When the Men of Letters were destroyed, brought to their knees by demons, witches across the country scattered. Only a few covens even knew about their existence now, and only the witches of my bloodline knew all their secrets.

I descend the stairs that led to the entrance of the underground bunker with anticipation hiccuping in my chest. There were a few different ways this could go: either they let me in and decided to help me, they turned me away, or they killed me on the spot. The last two, I surmised, wouldn't be all that different from what I was already dealing with. Still, it was worth the risk.

I knocked on the door, looking over my shoulder to ensure that I wasn't being followed. Of course, there was no chance that demons could have found such a protected place, but I'd seen the impossible be overcome time and time again, and my paranoia was at its highest level.

It was only natural that I jumped as soon as I heard the door swing open. I cleared my throat and smiled, trying to play it off as Sam Winchester came into view. I craned my neck looking up at the towering hunter with long, shaggy, hair, and wide shoulders draped with flannel. His brows scrunched into the center of his forehead and his lips displayed a goofy smile. “Zephyra?”

I winked playfully and shrugged, doing my best to maintain my blasé demeanor. Sure, I wanted them to know that I'd only come if I had nowhere else to go, but I wasn't ready for them to see just how desperate I was. “Sammy, how's it going?”

Sam cringed and pressed his palm on the doorframe. “It's Sam, Zep. What the hell are you doing here?” He shook his head, flopping his brown hair around his cheeks. “Wait, how the hell did you find us here?”

I lifted one shoulder and stretched my grin wider. “It's my job to know things, Sammy.”

“Sam.”

“And since I'm of the Wise Bloodline, my ancestors were responsible for the development of this place and other bunkers like it.” I hit my hand against the wall, emphasizing the sturdiness of the building. “I know a lot of things about this place that no one would ever want me to know. It kind a makes me an asset.”

In true Sam fashion, he rolled his eyes and moved to close the door, but I stuck my boot in the doorway to prevent it from closing all the way. Hand on his hip, Sam grunted. “What do you want, Zep?”

“This is probably shocking and life-altering for someone like you, but I need your help.”

Unamused, he stared back at me. “With what?”

Feeling an itch on the back of my neck, I turned over my shoulder. There was nothing around us but trees and wind. Confident my mind was playing tricks on me, I scratched my neck and returned my attention to Sam. “Look, it's not safe out here. Let me in and I'll tell you everything.”

Sam’s face tightened as he wrinkled his nose. He was the more emotionally aware of the two brothers, which I was heavily relying upon. Rarely did he leave an innocent out to the wolves, and despite the fact that I wasn't innocent in the least bit, I hoped I looked just pathetic enough for him to feel some sympathy.

He sighed and pulled the door open. “No funny business, Zep.”

I tightened my grip on the shoulder strap of my bag and walked past him into the dark foyer of the bunker. “What do you mean, Sam? I'm fucking hilarious.”

His voice echoed through the hollow room we walked through to the staircase leading down into the bunker. “Yeah, we'll see how hilarious you are when Dean sees you.”

I blew air out of my mouth and waved my hand dismissively. “Puh-lease! Your brother fucking loves me!”

Sam let out a huff and shook his head. “Dean wants you dead, last I checked,” he mumbled.

“Exactly, Sam. Last time you checked. But that was a long ass time ago, so many things have changed since then.” I wasn’t hopeful that they had. Dean and I, specifically, had a very hostile relationship, but I hoped that his rage calmed in his old age.

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

I held my breath as Sam and I continued down the stairs. He led me to the main floor of the bunker. It opened up into a massive room that wasn’t unlike my bunker at home. Maps with circled cities hung on one of the walls and a control panel was shoved against another. Bookshelves lined the sides, covered in decades worth of lore and mythology. My mouth fell open at the swords displayed on shelves and weaponry I'd never seen outside of books and webpages.

In the center of it all was a large table that looked like a map of the world, and Dean Winchester was sitting at it, legs up and tapping away at his laptop. “Who was it, Sam, doorbell ditchers?” he asked, his back to me as I descended the stairs. “Bastards.”

Sam cleared his throat, oddly anticipating his brother’s response. “Not quite.” He hit the landing and walked around the table to see Dean’s face. Since I was an only child, I never understood what it was like to look at a sibling and have an entire conversation, but for the brothers, it was normal. It was necessary.

As I hit the floor, I dropped my bag, releasing a weight that would be nothing compared to the look I was prepared to get from Dean.

“What?” He dropped his feet to the ground and slid his laptop closer to the center of the table. My heart skipped a beat when he turned to look at me. So many feelings seemed to flash on his face: anger, shock, and rage, being the biggest.

Dean reached around his waist to draw his handgun from his waistband. Even at home, he was always ready for a battle. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, aiming his gun at my face.

I held my hands up in surrender and smiled. “Hey, babe? How's it going?”

His glare cut into me like daggers, causing my breath to hitch. The safety of his gun clicked, giving me a warning that whatever I said or did next would be integral in how he responded. “You've got thirty seconds to tell me why you're here,” he barked.

“Come on, dude! I think I deserve at least a minute,” I whined.

Dean took a step toward me, closing the distance between me and the barrel of his gun. I flinched. “Dammit, Zep! Talk. Now!”

I rolled my eyes, suffocating the fear burning beneath my chest. “Then shoot me, Dean. Come on, I thought we already discussed this years ago.”

“Zep, please,” Sam pleaded. Sam probably thought that if I continued my usual antics, Dean wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger, but I knew better.

Dean has seen me at my worst, had a golden opportunity to kill me, and chose not to. If he had, no one would have known, no one would have missed me, and he could live his life consequence-free. But he made the decision to not only allow me to live but save my life. He didn't know it, but I owed him everything.

“Look,” I began, sobering my words. “I need your help.”

“With what?” Dean asked, his voice rife with rage. Even after all these years...

I chewed at the inside of my mouth as I determined how much information I was going to divulge. Leaving out crucial details would mean the difference between a yes or a no, but it would also mean they would know something I didn't want anyone to know. “I'm tired, and I'm hungry, so why don't we drop the gun and talk about this over some burgers and beer, huh?”

Dean's arm flexed and his lips turned into an impatient snarl. “Zep!”

“Okay, fine!” I sighed, trying to ground myself. “I need your help because I have demons on my tail.”

“What?” they both exclaimed, panic stretching into their veins that popped out of their necks.

“Not currently, don't worry. I killed my way through them, set a motel room on fire, and used a protection spell, so no one knows I'm here.”

“So what, they can't just follow your ugly ass convertible here?” Dean said, his words dripping with venom and sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, my car was not ugly. And I haven't driven that car in almost three years. I got a pay bump, so I treated myself.”

“Well, woohoo for you,” Dean teased.

Sam looked at me confusedly, his eyes narrowing under his shaggy hair. “So then why are demons after you?”

“I know something. Something that's a pretty huge threat to the King of Hell.”

“We're listening.”

Dean's grip tightened on his handgun and his legs squared. If I tried to use any magic to disarm him, there was no doubt that he would shoot me. It may not be in my head, but the last thing I needed now was a bullet in the leg.

“You know that demon-killing knife you got from the demon Ruby? The one no one had ever seen before and no one has seen since?” They both nodded, their jaws slackening as they listened. “And you remember that book I have, Dean? The one your dad killed my mom over?”

“I remember,” he grumbled.

“Well, that book revealed a spell to me. A spell to recreate a knife like the one you have.”

“You're lying,” Sam spat, disbelief filling his muscles with tension.

My arms became heavier and heavier with each passing moment, but one wrong move and I'd have a bullet in me. “I'm not lying, and I've got proof. I'm just going to pull my karambit out of my boots, okay?” I reached down, keeping my eyes fixed on the boys, and pulled my karambit from my boot and handed it to Sam.

My heart hammered against my chest as he looked it over, flipping it in the palm of his hand. His fingers moved over the sigils that were etched into the blade. The same sigils as the ones used on their knife.

Sam looked up with curious eyes. “It has blood on it,” he said.

I flashed a half-smile. “Like I said, I've had to kill my way out of a few situations over the last few weeks.”

The brothers looked at each other, quick glances that conveyed entire conversations. “So what does this have to do with us,” Sam asked.

I gulped. In order to persuade them to help me, I'd have to tell them everything, even if it meant putting them at risk. But they were the fucking Winchesters. Something told me they could handle it. Besides, I didn’t have any other choice.

“Because you're the only ones who _can_ help me.”

“Is that so?” Dean’s patience was wearing thin. His jaw clenched as he stared me down, eyes merely thin slits covered in long lashes. Pulling teeth may be a good time for me, but for them, they were getting antsy.

Against my better judgment, I grit my teeth and told them the one thing that would get them going. It was the only chip I had to bargain, even if it made me a manipulative bitch. “And if you don't help me, someone you care for deeply will be in danger.”

My legs stiffened as Dean rushed forward, pressing the barrel of the gun to my temple. The cold bite of the metal sent a chill down my spine. “You threatening us?” Spit fell from the corner of his mouth, and for a moment, he reminded me so much of his father...

Sam stood back, giving his brother full control over what to do with me. “Who? Who will be in danger?”

“I wasn't the only one that spell was revealed to. You could kill me. You could refuse to help me, but once I'm out of the picture, Crowley will go after Jazzy, and neither of us wants that.”

Dean’s green eyes bulged and his lips pressed together in a hard line. Though they hadn't seen each other in years, their love for each other was palpable. No distance, no time, could erase that. For me, their love was my only real leverage.

Just as I assumed he would, he lowered his gun, and I inhaled the first full breath I had since stepping out of the car. “But I'm trying to keep her safe, that's why except for you two, only two other people know about her, and that's the way I'd like to keep it.”

Dean licked at his lips as he replaced his handgun in his waistband. “And why would you protect her, huh?”

Off the jump, I didn't say anything, and my silence made space for Sam’s wheels to begin spinning. He walked over to where I and his brother stood, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Wait, you said you had a pay bump. You're working with the wolves just like Jazzy is, aren't you?”

I nodded; there was no use in denying it. “Jazzy and I are besties, you know?”

The boys looked at me with incredulous glares. Jazzy meant the world to both of them, and any threat to her better be prepared to meet Death. I chuckled, falling back into my normal routine, and bit my lip. “Boys, if you're gonna look at me all sexy like that, then you better either feed me and grab me a drink, or skip the pleasantries and take me to bed. Which will it be?”

Sam’s eyes fell first. I contributed that to the fact that he knew the history between his brother and me. Either that, or he was just a shy boy. Regardless, I pushed past him and his brother to make my way to the kitchen. Now that I had them on my side, more animalistic needs took over my concern.

My eyes zoned in on the fridge and my stomach rumbled. Though I had stopped during the eight-hour drive for food, I was still pretty sour about losing my pizza. I rifled through the fridge, pushing aside bagged salads, fruits, and molded fries. The only thing even a little appetizing was the single unopened bottle of beer shoved into the back, most likely hidden for a reason. I grabbed it and opened it, chucking the top onto the counter.

“Yeah, sure, NightWolfe, make yourself at home.”

I wasn't surprised to see Dean watching me maneuver through his kitchen. Even though he saved my life, even though I saved his, he didn't trust me. Surely, my killing his dad has something to do with that, but I couldn't be quite sure. Despite every intelligent cell in my brain telling me to behave, I couldn't see to manage.

Cheap beer flowed down into my throat, cold and light, providing my gut with a slight coating to hopefully get me through the rest of the day. “Do you assholes eat? Or is bad beer your only fuel?”

Dean squinted his eyes, mocking me, and rolled them. He leaned forward on the steel counter in the center of the kitchen. “And now you owe me a beer,” he said.

I took another swig, filling my mouth until my cheeks ballooned before swallowing it all down. “Actually, Winchester, I’m a guest here, so I should be able to drink all the beer I want. Hell, if there was food here, I should be able to eat all I wanted too.”

“What's your deal, huh?” All hopes of continued playful banter were shattered when he placed his gun on the countertop. It was a reminder of the unbalanced power he had over me. When faced with a Winchester and his gun, my power was regulated to nothing.

Wearily, I eyed the gun but kept a smug grin on my lips. “You know, I'm not gonna try anything. You don't have to keep pulling that thing out. I know you're kinky but—”

“Would you quit with the games and flirting!” He screamed.

“I'm not flirting,” I argued.

All six feet of him tensed. There was something eating at him, and it wasn't just me. Sure, our friendship was tumultuous, but what friendship wasn't? “Then what's your angle, huh?”

“There is no angle, Dean.” I rubbed at my tired eyes and set my bottle on the counter. “Look, I’m sorry. It's just that, I haven't really slept in weeks, I've been fighting for my life literally every day, and I'm so fucking hungry.”

“And since when is that my problem?”

I chuckled and rubbed at the back of my neck. I wondered if there would ever be a time when Dean didn't look at me like he wanted to see my intestines ripped out through my ears. “I could say since the first time we met, but if we're being more realistic, I'd say the moment that spell was revealed to me and Jazzy.”

His body shuddered at the mention of her name. Eyes rapidly blinking, he lowered them to the counter. Anybody could see the longing he experienced when I mentioned her. The mere sound of her name left him feeling breathless. She reacted in the same manner when I said his name and both of them were too stupid to do anything about it.

“How is she?” he breathed. There was a hint of desperation in his voice at even the mention of her.

My voice softened. “She's Jazzy. I mean what more can I say about her than you don't already know?”

His fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. It was as if his thoughts of her became a burden that made his adorable bowlegs feel weak. “Why do you care so much about her? You two aren't...?”

His voice trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks. “She's awesome, but no. Jazzy and I aren't dating, or having sex, for that matter.” I tried to ignore the audible sigh of relief he let out. “Turns out I've known Jazzy a lot longer than I thought.”

He looked up at me, brow raises. “What are you talking about?”

I took another sip of beer, calming the pangs of hunger wreaking havoc on my body. “I've worked a case or two with her over the years, but it wasn't until we both were working for Adam Hauptman that we hung out, really got to know each other. Turns out, her grandmother was a member of the Wise.”

Dean raked his hands through his hair. “What are the odds, huh?” He chuckled, but there was no humor.

I picked my beer off the counter and walked around the center island to stand next to Dean. “She's happy, you know? Which is why I need you and Sam to stow whatever fucked up shit you have with me so we can keep her safe.”

He looked up, eyes turning a little watery, and shrugged. “And how the hell are we supposed to do that? This ain't no regular demon that wants you. It's freaking Crowley.”

Holding myself up by my elbows, I leaned back against the counter, keeping my beer in my hand. “Honestly, I've got no clue. But that's why I came to you for help. You know Crowley, and he'd never expect us to be working together.” I smiled, meeting his determined gaze. “So what do you say, we work together like we did way back when, and save your girl?” I paused, the weight of my words landing hard on my chest. “Save us all.”

Dean’s gentle smile surprised me. “Yeah, we did work well together, huh?”

Remembering those first few days together working that case in Savannah made warmth bubble up inside me. We were both so different, then, and somehow we worked together well enough that I spent years running away from him. “Hell yeah, we did.” I finished off the rest of my beer and turned around, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean. “But, first things first, you're gonna have to stop whipping out your hardware every time you get too excited.”

He grinned, flashing his teeth, and nodded. “Yeah, but you know you deserve it.”

I shrugged and bumped his shoulder. “Yeah, probably. And in any other circumstance, it might turn me on, but now it just freaks me out. But speaking of weapons, whenever Sam is done examining my knife, I'd really like to have it back.”

Without warning, Dean pushed himself off the counter and pulled me into his arms. I stiffened, at first, beneath his touch. But when his arms tightened around me, I relaxed into his chest and closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of sandalwood in his clothes.

We stayed like that for a little while before he pulled away. He kissed my forehead before turning away from me altogether, but the malice he showed me in the main room seemed to have melted away.

“What was that about?” I asked.

Leaving me and the kitchen behind him, he chuckled. “I’m glad I don't have to kill you today, Zep.”


	3. Mark of Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several days of resting up, Zephyra is confronted by Sam's request for her help.

Days had begun to mesh together. When I woke up in the bunker, I wasn't sure if it was Wednesday or Saturday, if it was day or night. All I knew was that my throat was dry, my body ached, and my phone was dead. I rolled over in bed, fighting through the tangle of sheets and covers, and plugged my phone into the charger.

When the screen flashed on, notifications went off at rapid-fire. Over and over again one name kept popping up. When I left Amarillo, I grabbed this new phone and sent a quick message to Daryl to let him know that I was safe. By the look of the messages, I'd been out for a couple of days, and he was worried, which was completely on-brand for him.

I groaned and dialed his number, pressing the speaker button on my phone. It barely rang once before I heard the wolf’s deep, gravely voice. “Zephyra, I swear to god,” he grunted.

“Oh, don’t do that, Papa D. He’s all but useless at this point.”

He groaned, annoyed with my attempt at humor. “Where are you? Are you okay? What's going on?”

“I can't tell you where I am. I'm fine. Nothing is happening,” I croaked, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You sound...inebriated.”

I chuckled, rolling over on my back and staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom. “Trust me, Daryl. There's only nasty, cheap, beer where I am, so I am sober as a judge. Just exhausted. How's everyone else back at home?”

“Everything is fine here. You'll be pleased to know that Ben has begun attending social clubs for his job.”

Laughter exploded from my chest at the thought of Ben, the meanest, grumpiest, violent werewolf I've ever meant, hanging out with humans talking about programming and technology. I could all but see him with his arms crossed over his chest, drink in hand, and shoving himself more and more into the corner.

“You're right,” I said, regaining my ability to breathe, “that absolutely pleases me.”

As his own laughter died down, his voice became sober and serious. “Mostly, we’re all just worried about you, Zephyra.”

I rubbed at my eyes and sighed. “Look, Daryl, I’m fine for now. I've got some help, so if all goes well, I'll be home in no time. It'll be like I never even left.”

“I could come, provide you with some assistance.”

“No, Daryl. I need you home looking after Jazz. If Crowley gets to her...”

“He won’t,” Daryl growled. “Although you should realize that she is not defenseless. She is an excellent hunter and just as powerful as you are.”

I hung my head thinking about her. Daryl was right, of course, but that didn’t change anything for me. I gave her my word that I would protect her, and I know she’d do the same. But this was my fight, and I’d do everything I could to keep her out of it.

“I know, Daryl. But she’s already been through so much, and I don’t want to put this on her plate, okay? Jazzy is the baddest bitch on the planet, there’s no denying that, but I’ve got this. She’s my best friend, and I promised I would look after her.”

“She worries for you, Zephyra. She misses you.”

Loss struck me in the center of my chest. We spent so much time together, experimenting with spells and potions, dancing under the light of the moon. She was my moonlight, and I was her sunshine.

But I had to do this for her. For both of us.

“I miss her too, Daryl, but I have to do this. I have to keep Crowley off her ass. I have to keep you all safe.”

A knock sounded at my door and my nervousness caught in my throat. “A’right, Papa D, I've gotta go.”

He was silent for a moment, displeased with my insistence with keeping him and the pack in the dark. “Check in, Zephyra.”

“I will.”

I hung up my phone and set it back on the end table so it could finish charging. “Come in,” I called, and pulled myself up to a sitting position in bed.

The door swung open and Sam ducked into my room carrying my karambit in his hand. “You're awake,” he observed and sat down at the bottom of my bed. Sam was typically the warmer of the two brothers, but now, he seemed stiff and distant, and I couldn't put my finger on why.

“Seems that I am, huh?”

I caught a sliver of apprehension in his eyes as he looked at me. It surfaced again as he cleared his throat before he spoke. “You've been out for a couple of days. We started wondering if you'd ever wake up.”

I brushed my curls out of my eyes and raised my arms to stretch. Sam flinched at my sudden movement and averted his gaze when he saw that I'd noticed. “Well, I did say that I was tired.”

“Yeah, uh, you did, didn't you?”

My arms dropped back down to the bed. “So, have you been having fun fingering my blade for the last couple days?”

Sam’s eyes widened and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. “Um, no, I mean, yeah,” he sputtered.

I leaned forward and chuckled, doing my best to ease his discomfort. “It's okay, Sam. I don't know what your brother's said about me, but I don't bite. Unless you like it.”

Nervous laughter filled the room as he handed my knife back to me. It felt warm in my hand, and fit perfectly within my grasp. “She's a beauty, isn't she?” I said.

“She is. So, uh, you really can kill demons with that thing?”

I nodded and sat her down in my lap. “You damn right she can. Took out at least a dozen in the last week alone.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “Impressive. And you're still in one piece.”

“Yup, Sammy, I’m a tough son of a bitch. Always have been, always will be.”

“It's Sam.”

“Well, then, Sam. What's really brought you into my room today?”

He slid back on the bed and raked his hands through his glorious hair. He pursed his lips, lost in thought until he managed to string together what he wanted to say. “I need your help.”

I set my karambit on the end table and leaned closer to Sam. “You need _my_ help? With what?”

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, laying it out on the covers. “I need your help with this.”

I looked at the paper and traced the image with the tips of my fingers. Two lines connected together to form what looked like a seven, with two much shorter lines off to the left. I squinted my eyes staring at the image, wracking my brain trying to recall if I'd ever seen it. When I came up empty, I said, “I've never seen a sigil quite like this. But it looks old, ancient, maybe even—”

“Biblical?” My eyes jumped up to meet Sam's as his lips pressed together to form a straight, hard, line. “It's called the Mark of Cain.”

My jaw dropped and my mind swirled as to why Sam Winchester would be asking about the Mark of Cain, the world's first curse. “Why are you asking about the Mark of Cain?”

Sadness filled his hazel eyes and everything became abundantly clear. Frustration narrowed my gaze. Fury flared my nostrils. The Winchesters got saddled with all sorts of problems from demons to angels, leviathans, and even other witches, but this…this was a whole new level of Winchester Stupid.

“He's a fucking moron!” I screamed. “Why? How? What the fuck?”

Sam hushed me, begging me to calm down. Destress carved lines into his forehead and for a moment, Sam looked small, like the little boy his brother always saw him to be.

“He accepted it from Cain so that he could kill Abaddon,” Sam explained.

I shook my head, words suddenly failing me. None of this made sense. None of this seemed possible. “Cain, _the_ Cain gave Dean the Mark to kill one of his own Knights of Hell? The same black-eyed bitch that brought down the Men of Letters in a single night?”

Sam shrugged. “Apparently, he had a bone to pick with her too.”

“Then why didn't you let Cain kill her?”

“Dean never shared the specifics.”

“Of course he didn't! He doesn't know how to use common fucking sense!”

“Look, Zephyra, it's changing him, making him more angry, more violent. I need your help to figure out how to remove it.”

My face dropped into my hands. I couldn't believe it. After everything these two had done, of course, the natural progression of things would lead to the fucking Mark of Cain. “Sam, I don't know who the fuck you think I am, but that's some God level shit, literally. I can't just remove something like that.”

Desperation tainted his words as he scooted closer to me on the bed. “What about that book you have? The one that has the spell you used to make the demon-killing knife. Maybe there's something in there that can help.”

Once again, I shook my head. “That's not how the book works. It's...it's like a sentient thing. I can’t explain exactly how it works, but you don't just flip through the pages and find what you're looking for. It has to reveal itself to you for some specific purpose.”

“Zep, please.”

Falling prey to Sam’s despair, I sighed. “Look, once we figure out a way to get Crowley off my back, I'll do what I can to find somebody who can help you with this.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, relief bringing color back to his cheeks and lips. “Thank you.”

“I can't make any promises that it'll do any good, but I'll try.”

Sam’s chest crashed into me, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him back, hoping that I could find someone to help him. The thing about Sam, you never wanted to let him down.

He held on to me a little longer than I expected, turning the moment from precious to awkward. “Sam, I can't breathe.”

Sam pulled away from me, tucking his hair behind his ears and grinning. “Sorry. I just...sorry.”

“It's okay, I get it. You'd do anything for your brother. Anything to keep him safe, even if he is an idiot.”

“Kind of like how you're doing everything you can to protect Jazzy?”

I bit into my bottom lip and lowered my gaze. “Kind of.”

“Why are you trying so hard to protect her?”

My friendship with Jazzy wasn't a secret, and neither was her recently discovered family tie to the Wise Coven I'd been raised in, but it was still something she was trying to work through. She had a troubled history with the Wise, and being a part of that made her feel ashamed, especially the way our relationship manifested. It wasn't a secret, but it was something I wouldn't talk much about without her blessing.

I raised my gaze and grinned. “She's my friend, Winchester. You do that sort of thing for friends.”

Sam didn't say anything, but by the narrowing of his eyes, I could tell he knew there was more to the story. He was a smart one, but he also seemed to respect the hard boundary I put up.

“Besides,” I said, “I've got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Being awake for so long, I'm reminded of my mortality, and currently, my stomach is eating itself from the inside out. So please tell me that over the last two days the two of you stumbled on a wild grocery store and killed something for me to eat.”

Sam’s shoulders relaxed in his flannel as he laughed. “Of course we did. Dean's making breakfast for dinner.”

I pumped my fist in the air in celebration. “Yes! Finally!” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed at the same time that Sam stood up.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. We'll be in the kitchen when you're done.” He turned to leave the room and stopped short at the doorframe. “Oh, and Zep.”

“Yeah?”

“Don't tell Dean about our talk, okay?”

Though I didn't understand why he'd want to keep it a secret, I nodded.

Without another word, he turned his back to me and walked out of the room.


	4. So Fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra chats with Sam and Dean about their plan to deal with Crowley.

I strolled down the bunker’s hallway with freshly washed hair, a flared suspender skirt, and a cropped t-shirt. For the first time in days, I felt like myself. I was clean and energized and could walk around with bare feet and my weapons could be set down and forgotten. The only thing that would make it any more perfect was waiting for me in the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were sitting at a table with their plates full and their beer cold. I entered the kitchen, walked past them, and went straight for the counter where food was laid out buffet style. The aroma of brown sugared bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and grits filled my nostrils. Even the sweet smell of herbal tea made goosebumps prick my skin.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Dean teased as I filled my plate with food.

Looking over my shoulder, I smiled at him. “Good evening, Moonlight.” I piled my plate with food, expecting to return for seconds, and joined the brothers at the table. Everything around me seemed to mute as I bit off a piece of bacon. I savored the sweet taste of brown sugar and maple syrup on the salty meat. Each flavor set off fireworks in my body, filling me with pure ecstasy.

My body tingled as fluffy eggs entered my mouth. Perfectly seasoned and expertly cooked, I moaned, enjoying every bite. Pleasing the Charleston girl in me, I mixed the sausage, eggs, and bacon in the grits, completing the perfect breakfast combo. Only thing missing...

I looked up from my plate and felt joy bubble in my gut as I poured a glass of orange juice. Bits of pulp tickled my throat as it slid down, cooling off my senses. After days of not eating a real meal, I felt content with my breakfast for dinner. I felt so much glee that I'd completely forgotten about the other people sitting at the table with me.

The bubble I’d been existing in since I walked into the kitchen immediately burst as Sam nudged my shoulder. He looked at me, smirking, clearly amused by my antics. “You okay over there?”

I nodded and continued stuffing my face with food. “I'm great. It's just that I haven't eaten anything but pizza in, like, days,” I said through hefty chews.

Dean stared at me with a straight face. “You are so special. Like, one of a kind,” he said.

I smiled with every inch of my face. “Well, thanks, Deanie-Boo. That means so much coming from you.”

“And what the hell are you wearing, Zephyra? You can't hunt in a mini skirt.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dean, we've gone over this. I. Am. Not. A. Hunter. I am a witch that just so happens to help hunters by providing them with very expensive, very special magical services. So, I do what I want, and therefore, wear what I want.”

“But a mini skirt?”

I set down my glass and stared in his direction. “Do you know how many days I had to go without taking a shower? Without taking a fucking shit because I didn't want to let my guard down?” He made a gagging face, which I ignored. “I am cleansed and refreshed and well-rested, so sue me for wanting to feel like my fabulous self! Today, my dear Winchesters, I am living my best life!”

“You're fucking crazy,” Dean mumbled. He leaned back, pushing his cleared plate away from him and into the center of the table.

“Takes one to know one,” I quipped, sticking my tongue out at him. He responded kindly by flipping me the bird.

“Anyway,” Sam interrupted. “If you two are done being children, Zep, what's your plan to take out Crowley?”

I stopped mid-chew and stared at both of them. I finished chewing my food and swallowed. “Wait, so I was knocked out, down for the count, dead to the world, for two days, and you two didn't draft up some kind of stupid plan to get one over on Crowley?”

Dean grunted, leaning forward on the table. “You know, that sounded nothing like, ‘thanks for making breakfast, Dean! It was great!’”

I rolled my eyes at him and dropped my fork on the plate. “Look, I know you guys have some kind of funky bromance with Crowley, so I was hoping you could sweet-talk him into backing off. I mean, devil you know, you know?”

“Why not just ice him?” Sam asked.

I shook my head. “I have no problem ganking that smug son of a bitch. But if we do, that creates a void in management, and I’m too cute and alive to be running hell. So, I was hoping you two could put your thinking caps on and work some Winchester twin magic, or some shit.”

Sam and Dean traded glances, leaving me chagrined. I wasn't too much of a control freak, but at the same time, I didn't like their silent conversations. “You guys got something you wanna share with the class?” I asked. “I'm chomping at the bit, here.”

Sam cleared his throat and I leaned back, anticipating this wonderful, Winchester-approved, plan he was preparing to share with me. “Well, why don't we just call him?”

Jaw slackened, I stared back at Sam. My eyes blinked rapidly as I met both their gazes. “Wait, what?” Surely there was more to it than that, so I waited, keeping my critical comments to myself.

Sam continued, his fingers twitching on the table. “Well, I mean, Dean's kind of in good with Crowley, sort of. Maybe we could just talk to him.”

I rolled my tongue over my lips and squinted my eyes, doing my best to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Excuse me? I mean, if you're in good with Crowley, then why the hell haven't you already pulled my ass out of the hell-fire?”

“Because I was waiting on you,” Dean said.

“Wait on me for what?”

A smug grin played on Dean's lips and the golden flecks in his eyes seemed to sparkle like stars. “I wanted you to beg for it.”

My face fell flat and flopped my arms on the table. “Remember, it's not just my ass on the line here, Winchester!”

Dean cleared his throat, suddenly remembering that the love of his life was also in danger, making him more apt to move. He huffed and rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt to his elbows, revealing the Mark Sam showed me earlier.

I stretched out my arm, reaching for his, and pressed my finger into the Mark. The puffed-up skin gave way to the pressure from my fingers, and magic buzzed on my skin. “So it's true,” I whispered as he yanked his hand back to his side of the table.

“What are you talking about, Zep?”

So, after everything, he was going to act coy? I chewed the inside of my cheek and lowered myself back down in my seat. “I've heard rumblings about you taking on the Mark, but I didn't think you were dumb enough for it to be true.”

Beside me, Sam let out a heavy breath, realizing that I was going to keep my promise to him. “Yeah, well, you know us.”

“We do dumb shit,” Dean finished.

I let my chin fall into my hand, thinking. Dean having the Mark wasn't a good thing, but all the anger and aggression literally flying off of him made sense. I didn't know much about the Mark, but I could feel the magic burning beneath it. And now that I'd eaten and gotten some rest, I could see the darkness swirling around him.

“Well, we could use your stupidity to our advantage.” Dean flashed me an exasperated look. “I mean, it makes sense that you're butt-buddies with Crowley. Besides me, you're the only other person on the planet that can kill him.”

“Angels can kill him,” Sam added.

“Yeah, well, since your angel isn't here, I figured he wasn't on standby. But if he is...”

“He isn't,” Dean snapped.

“Okay. Well, then that just leaves you and me.”

“Which leaves us where, exactly?” Sam asked.

By the end of this, I was positive that I wouldn't have any skin left on the inside of my cheek. It was all I could do to keep from exploding with anxiety. I rolled my head in my hands and sighed. “I don't know, okay? I don't know.” I looked up, sensing intelligence brewing in my mind. “I mean, you could call Crowley, but if he knows we can't get him where it hurts, having the Mark and my blades won't be enough to get him to lay down like the ugly dog that he is. But, you are the fucking Winchesters, and we’re sitting on one of the most impressive collections of lore and witchcraft in the fucking world. Surely, there's gotta be something useful in here.”

Dean slid back in his chair and stood. “Books! Yay,” he said sarcastically and walked out of the kitchen.

I turned to Sam, slowly, waiting to be sure Dean was out of earshot. “He seems grumpier than usual.”

Sam nodded and stood, picking up empty plates and glasses to walk over to the sink. “Yeah, it's the Mark.”

Following behind him, I nodded and began putting up food for storage in the fridge. “And here I was thinking he just hated me a little more than usual.”

“Nope, at least I don't think so anyway. But now you see why I need your help to get rid of it.”

“Yeah, I get it, but, and I'm fully aware that this is going to make me sound like a selfish asshole, that Mark could be incredibly useful in dealing with Crowley.”

Sam ran water and began washing dishes from our evening brunch. Soap-suds crept up his arms as he worked. “Well, hopefully, Dean can keep being Dean until we figure this all out.”

Once all the food was put up, I walked over to Sam to dry the dishes and put them away in cabinets I was too short to reach. Swiftly, I pushed myself to sit on the counter, providing myself with easy access to the dishes Sam handed me and the cabinets they belonged in.

Taking notice of his frown, I gently pressed my toe into the side of his thigh, getting his attention. “So tell me, Sam, how are you dealing with all of this.”

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Dealing with what?”

Nonchalance was never Sam’s thing; it belonged to Dean. He tried to push his feelings down, ignore them, but he carried his emotions in his eyes and in the tightening of his jaw. To those of us who knew him just a little, it was hard to miss. I tried not to internalize it as an issue he had with me, and just smiled. “Oh, I don't know, with your brother, with me showing up naked and drunk on your front lawn. You know, everything.”

Sam chanced a look at me before returning his attention back to the suds in the sink. “My brother...Dean will get through this. He always does. And you...” He chuckled. “You, Zephyra, are never too far away from trouble.”

He wasn't wrong, of course. Trouble followed me like the fucking plague. But there was something else bubbling just beneath the surface. I could feel it, but I couldn't find it's pulse. I stared at him for several moments as he worked in silence, honing in on what he was feeling. It was a gift I'd had since I was little, but as I got older, I learned how to control it, to turn it off. Turns out, people hate being told how they feel before they even realize it for themselves.

Lucky for Sam, I didn't need to try hard to figure out what he was going through. From the tension in his neck and arms, his shifty eyes, and how he'd been scrubbing the same ceramic plate for over two minutes, it wasn't difficult to see the nervousness.

I opened my mouth, prepared to question him, but I thought against it at the last minute. Sam was kind and gentle until he no other choice but to not be. And he had already trusted me enough to ask for help with the Mark, so I'd have to trust him to talk to me when he was ready.

He handed me the last plate and drained the water from the sink. “Thanks for helping me clean up.”

After I finished drying it, I twisted around to set it in the overhead cabinets. When I faced him again, I caught a glimpse of him staring, though it was short-lived since he averted his gaze and took to brushing his hair from his eyes. “What?” I asked, which was a far cry from my usual banter.

Sam licked at his lips and laughed. “It's just strange, that's all.”

I peered at him through narrowed eyes. “What's strange?”

“You being so nice. It's kind of creepy.”

I chuckled, stretching my smile even wider for him. “You know, Sam, despite what your brother's told you about me, I’m actually a pretty nice person. But I'm glad you're finally getting a chance to see it.”

He gently patted my shoulder and helped guide me down from the counter. “Come on,” he said, hooking my arm into his and leading me out of the now clean kitchen. “Let's go see if we can solve your Crowley problem.”


	5. Don't Fridge Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra and the Winchesters hatch a plan to deal with Crowley.

Dean was slumped over a stack of books when we joined him in the library. Initially, I believed he was studiously scanning books in search of some solution to my massive problem. It wasn't until Sam and I sat across from him at the table that I realized he'd just gotten off a phone call.

I pushed books aside to clear my line of sight. “I hope that was someone with some answers and not some phone sex line you frequent,” I teased.

He leaned back in his seat, laying eyes on me and Sam, and took a swig from a glass of liquor I hadn't seen him pour. “Actually, I just got off the phone with Crowley.”

Sam and I traded glances laced in confusion and anticipation. “Excuse me? Did you say, Crowley?” I asked. My gut tumbled with anxiety at what could possibly fall out of his mouth next.

“Yeah, I called him to see what this shit with you was all about.”

“And what'd he say?” Sam asked, seemingly just as eager to hear the response as I was.

Dean fidgeted with a pen in his hand, tumbling it over and under his fingers. “He says he stopped sending demons after you a couple days ago after you sent one of them back with a very specific message.” I stared blankly at Dean, waiting for him to continue. I couldn't remember much about what happened at the motel before I ended up here. It was a miracle I made it to the bunker at all.

Reading my confusion, Dean sighed. “The one about you, and I quote, ‘digging your way to hell to gut him yourself’.”

I sheepishly grinned hearing my words spoken back to me. Delirious from a lack of rest and sustenance left me a bit foggy on the details of that night, but it certainly sounded like a threat I'd make. A threat I'd make good on too. “I guess I did say that, huh? So what, he backed down? I can go home?”

Sam shook his head, refusing to believe that Crowley could be so sensible. “There's no way he'd back off that easy. This is Crowley we're talking about.” And I would agree.

Dean took a slow sip of his liquor, swirling the glass around his hand. “He's not backing off. He pulled in the demons and released the hellhounds instead.”

Fear surged through me, knocking the breath out of my chest. I leaned back, my body pressing hard into the wooden chair I was sitting in. My hands gripped the edge of the table as I closed my eyes. Demons I could handle. They were smug and arrogant, but I knew demons. I knew all their stupid little flaws and what mistakes they'd make. Hellhounds were a whole different breed.

Hellhounds were giant, invisible dogs that usually dragged people to Hell once they sold their soul to a demon. They were quite literally attack dogs with one goal and purpose: to kill. Demons I could fight, but hellhounds may have surely become my greatest weakness.

I startled when Sam touched my arm. I looked up at his big, hazel eyes, sensing the worry brewing inside him too. “Are you okay?” he asked me softly.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, my trembling hands tangling in my coils, and forced myself to smile. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Cause it's okay if you're not, Zep.”

“Trust me,” Dean said, “you have every right to be scared of hellhounds. They're vicious sons of bitches.”

Swallowing bile, I leaned back my head against the chair. “I forgot, Dean, you've gotten to see those bastards up close, right?”

“Yeah, that was one fight I didn't win. Which is why I think you should just give yourself over to Crowley. Nip this whole mess in the bud.”

The idea of being ripped to shreds by hellhounds seemed just as unappetizing as turning myself over to a murderous monster like Crowley. Once he had his grimy hands on me, there was no telling what he'd do to me.

Maybe death was easier.

I shook my head and did my best to pull myself together. “No. No, I can't do that.”

Dean licked at his top lip and sighed, and the climate in the room seemed to shift. “Maybe you can't, Zephyra, but the way I see it, turning you into Crowley solves my problem. It keeps me and Sam out of your mess and keeps Jazzy safe from both Crowley and you. To me, it seems like the smartest choice.”

All the quips and jeers I usually had tumbling out of my mouth without a second thought suddenly seemed to exist someplace very far away. I deserved the shit Dean sent my way, but I couldn't imagine him being so cold, so angry, that he'd give me up to Crowley. What we had between us was fucked up in ways that even I didn't understand, but Dean was my friend. The Dean I knew wouldn't even consider something like this.

I looked at Sam and saw an unease in his face as he looked at his brother. My gaze shifted down to the Mark on Dean's forearm. Of course, this wasn't Dean, because it was the damn Mark.

“Look,” Sam said, his voice low and deep. “We're not handing anybody over to Crowley. Like you said before, Zep, we've got decades worth of lore and magic all around us. I don't know about the two of you, but I know there's another option. We just have to find it.”

Sam quickly stood up from the table and walked out of the library, presumably to gather even more books from somewhere else, which left me alone with Dean. Avoiding his gaze, I pulled a book from the top of his stack and started reading. I didn't know what exactly I was looking for, but there had to be something we could do.

Hours passed and book after book left me feeling hopeless. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe the smartest move was to drop me off at Crowley's door in a basket with blood-red ribbons on my pigtails. With a solution still so far out of reach, I groaned and lowered my head on the table. Not long ago Dean left the library in search of another place to research, I assumed, a place that didn't include me.

His leaving was fine with me. The angry looks and the prick of magic on my skin seemed to exhaust me even more than my endless search. Dean going from pissed off to hugging me to pissed off again left me feeling dizzy and confused. I couldn't seem to keep up with which Dean I was talking to.

The loud sounds blaring from my phone was a welcomed distraction. I pulled it from the pocket of my skirt and groaned seeing Daryl's name on the caller ID. “Daryl, I’m fine,” I said, most likely answering the first, second, and third question he was going to ask me

“You need to tell me now where you are. I'm coming to get you,” he said. His voice sounded determined as if I had no choice but to fall in line.

My need for independence agitated the wolves to no end. Their innate dominance made them protective of everything and everyone that they deemed incapable of taking care of themselves. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I was considered one of them. Except that I'd been on my own for most of my adult life and had no other choice but to be independent.

A frustrated growl slipped through my lips, and I was grateful that I was on the phone with thousands of miles between us. “Dammit, Daryl, no. No, you don't get to demand that I get you involved. I've already told you that I'm handling this!”

He snarled in response to my defiance. “It's been weeks, Zephyra. Adam is worried for you. I am worried for you. We've tried to let you handle this on your own, but time is running out. So tell me where you are and we'll have a plane prepared to pick you up in a matter of hours.”

I pushed my chair away from the table and stalked off to my bedroom as I spoke. “No!, Daryl, I need you and Adam to give me more time, okay. We might be close to figuring something out.” I lied of course, which was the dumbest thing I could do. Wolves could sense a lie from hundreds of miles away, even over the phone.

“You lie. Don't lie to me, Zephyra.”

I slipped on my boots, tucked away my blades, and grabbed the keys to Mercy's Beetle. “Then trust me. Give me, like, one more day, Daryl. If we still haven't figured this out, then I'll bring you in, I promise.”

He paused for a moment, thoughtful. “Who is we?”

I groaned again and rolled my eyes as I walked down the hall toward the staircase that led out of the bunker. “One more day, Daryl. I'll call you later, okay?”

“Zephyra—” Before he could finish his statement, I hung up the phone and tucked it in my pocket. I knew they cared for me, just wanted me to be safe, but between the pack, the hellhounds on my ass, and Dean's Mark, I was fed up and needed a cigarette and a breath of fresh air.

I walked past the stack of books sitting on the library table and aimed my focus at the front entrance. Maybe getting out of this bunker was what I needed to get my brain working again.

“Where are you going?”

I stopped, my hands gripping the iron railing of the staircase. Slowly, I turned around, suddenly face to face with Dean. I squinted my eyes, sensing that once again he'd experienced a mood shift. His green eyes were bright in a way that they hadn't been all evening, a way that felt more familiar.

I smirked. “I'm going to be right back. I just need some fresh air.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Zep, you have Hellhounds on your tail. Don't you think it's a bit dangerous for you to be going out there alone?”

I was really getting sick and fucking tired of dominant men trying to tell me what to do. It didn't matter that they may have been trying to look out for me or were making very good points, I just wanted a minute to think.

“And what does it matter to you? A few hours ago you wanted to tie me up and throw me in the back of the Impala, and not in a sexy way.”

He nodded and scratched at the hair growing on his jaw. “Yeah, I uh, wanted to apologize to you about that”

“Oh, you do?”

An apology was never something I expected from him, mostly because it wasn't necessary. Regardless of the shit Dean shoveled my way, I’d never be angry at him for it. I deserved it. I was the one that took his dad from him; he never had to apologize to me about anything, or at least, that was what I kept trying to tell myself so that I didn't feel hurt by it.

He walked closer to me, eyes honed in and focused. “Yeah, I’d never hand you over to Crowley like that. I mean, with this Mark, I can't keep things straight, you know?”

I chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “Dean, you've never been able to keep anything straight.”

“Wait, what?”

I shook my head. “Nothing, just, I get it. You don't have to apologize.” I playfully bumped his shoulder with my fist and smiled. “I know you love to hate me anyway. But mostly, you just love me.”

“In your dreams, witch,” he scoffed.

“Well, good talk. See you when I get back?”

I turned away, heading for the stairs again, but he held out his hand to stop me. “You really shouldn't go out there alone, Zep.”

“Dean, I'll be fine. I've just gotta get out, go for a walk or a drive or something. Clear my head.”

“Why don't you let me go with you?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and looked him over. He'd changed and showered since he left me alone to my studies a little over an hour ago. His wet hair stood up in spikes on the top of his head, and he traded his denim shirt in for a gray flannel and covered it with his green military jacket. I wasn't the only one that wanted out.

Conceding, I sighed and rolled my eyes so far in the back of my mind, I feared they may have actually gotten stuck like that. “Fine, just let me get my cigarettes out of my car.”

He lowered his brow and one corner of his mouth pulled upward. “Since when do you smoke cigarettes?”

“Since five past eat me!” I screamed and began climbing the staircase.

Dean chuckled and turned away, heading toward the garage where Baby was parked. “Don't threaten me with a good time!”

His retort made me smile, reminding me of the way things used to be with him. A time when things were still complex, but much simpler than they were now. I hoped, deeply, that this Dean remained a little while longer.


	6. Oh Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra and Dean go for a ride in the Impala.

I was told that if I lit up a cigarette in the car, he'd kill me and drag me down to Crowley himself. He was teasing, of course, but when it came to Dean's ‘67 Impala, the one his dad gave to him before he died, I didn't take any chances. Dean loved that car probably more than he loved himself. His dad probably loved that car more than he loved Dean too.

It was a moonless night and the temperature outside was rather cool, so I didn't have to push Dean hard to agree to roll down the windows. My curls and coils whipped around my cheeks as wind whooshed into the cabin of the Impala. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind’s soft kisses as it blew between my eyelashes. I missed this. I missed being wild, running around at night, bowing to the moon as she lit my path.

I missed being home, as much as any place could be considered home for me. My apartment in Kennewick was a sight to behold, providing me with a five-star view of the river. Not to mention it wasn't far away from Adam’s house where the pack tended to congregate.

I'd walk into the house and immediately my senses would go into a frenzy from the aroma of sweet sugar cookies, chocolate fudge brownies, and beef. There was always lots of beef. Pack members and their mates and families would trek in and out, playing video games, watching movies, and attending Hauptman Security meetings. I got to see first hand how they plotted and managed threats both natural and supernatural, and it made me feel like I belonged, just to be a part of that. Since my coven was murdered when I was so young, I never knew what that felt like.

I missed the sun beaming across my face as I rode with the top down in my convertible, spending hours shooting the breeze with Mercy at her garage, and fucking with Ben as much I could before the other wolves realized he was serious about his homicidal threats.

I missed Jazzy. I missed dancing to music at three am in the living room of her apartment, glasses of wine, or vodka in our hands. Magic shimmered in the air when we were together, like pastel lights fluttering to the sway of our hips or the roar of our laughter. This was the longest I’d been without her since we became magically linked and I was not a fan.

Each memory touched a different part of my cold, dark heart, and it fueled me. Whatever was going to happen with Crowley, it needed to happen so I could be rid of him and get back home to my friends.

“You okay over there?” Dean asked, dragging my mind back down from the clouds.

I shook my head, returning my focus to the current moment. If nothing else, I found solace in knowing that the Dean I knew was currently in control and not the Mark. His soft lips curled down in a pouty frown as he went back and forth glancing at me and the road. “Oh, you know me. I'm always peachy. Not even hellhounds can bring me down.”

Dean's tongue peeked out between his lips, grinning. “I thought you liked being chased. It used to get you all wet and bothered.”

“Yeah, you're right, but I think it makes it a bit different when the wetness is just blood spouting out of my chest like a fucking geyser.” The thought of the hounds catching me, ripping my muscles straight off the bone...I shuddered.

“Me and my brother...you know we won't let that happen to you, right?”

I looked away, unable to look him in the eye. “Honestly, I don't know. I mean, I don't even know who you're gonna be from one minute to the next. I mean, maybe if you're this you, you-you. But even then, I'm not sure there's much you guys can do when it comes to hellhounds.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with excitement. “You know you have the means to kill them, right? You can use your demon blade. It works on the hounds just like they do on demons. And Sam and I have a spell to create glasses that makes it so you can see them.”

I groaned and spun my head around in dramatic fashion. “And why are you waiting until now to tell me this?”

Dean shrugged and stifled a laugh. Yes, this was the Dean I knew. “Sorry? I kind of just remembered.”

I reached over and punched him in the arm. Not that this information could save me, but it could give me--give us, the time we needed. Renewed hope breathed into me like the fresh air I'd been craving. If I could see those bastards, I could kill them. And what I killed would be a welcoming gift for Crowley when I showed up on his front lawn.

“This is good,” I said, nodding my head and building up motivation. “This is really good. So, how do we make those glasses?”

“Well, we need a pair of glasses, and some holy oil, which I have in the trunk and back at the bunker.”

I relaxed into the vinyl seat of the Impala, finally seeing a way out of my predicament. For a minute I was beginning to question whether or not I'd made the right decision in coming here, but this was like seeing the bright, white light at the end of a putrid, sewage tunnel.

Now that Dean and Sam helped me, it was time I tried to help them, for once. My eyes settled on the Mark of Cain that was now taking up real estate on his forearm. I moved my hand over the bumpy skin, feeling the magic permeating my skin. Hot, sizzling magic poured out of the Mark, red and full of rage. No magic I’d ever used before felt like it, and considering it was the original curse, I couldn’t imagine finding anything like it again.

“You know,” I said, taking notice of his uncomfortable stare, “once we get Crowley off my back, I can help you.”

He jerked his arm away from me. His muscles tensed under the fabric of his shirt as he settled his hand back on the steering wheel. I held my breath, expecting a violent shift in Dean’s mood, but found relief when he shot me a peeved look and aimed his gaze back toward the road ahead. Thankfully, he was just his regular old, grumpy self. “I don't need your help, Zep. It's not your problem.”

“I can make it my problem, Dean,” I offered, a squeaky inflection catching in my throat. “That's what friends do. Even friends that pretend to hate each other.”

He showed me his resting bitch face and looked back at the road. “Don't you have a pack of werewolves to get back to? I mean, isn't that who you were talking to on the phone?”

I scrunched my face up at him and rolled my eyes. “You eavesdropping on my conversations, Winchester?”

“It's not eavesdropping if I could hear you from any place in the damn bunker. You aren't a quiet girl, Zephyra.”

I winked at him, happy to fall back into our usual banter. “Most folks like that about me.”

“Is that it, huh? You've got a werewolf friend waiting for you back in Washington? I mean, it's not like you to stay in one place too long.”

Even though I became fully aware that Dean was trying to change the subject, I indulged him, even if for a moment. “Actually, no. It's, uh, it's just me right now. And I stayed in Washington because I wanted to. I have a place to call home, but I can still travel, you know? Assist hunters and witches, have my adventures.”

Yellow light from the streetlights sparkled in Dean's eyes as he smiled. “Yeah, I know a girl that likes adventure. Maybe the two of you will get to meet someday.”

“Maybe. But, Dean, I was serious about the whole Mark thing. When this is over and done, let me help you.”

He acknowledged me with a sly grin but didn't respond. Instead, the car came to a halt outside of a corner store. “You need anything out of there?” He asked, stepping out of the car.

I stepped out too so I could finally smoke, and shook my head. “No, asshole. I'm good.”

Playfully, he patted my shoulder and walked past me. A bell rang as Dean pulled the door open and walked into the store. Truthfully, I was amazed that a small town like Lebanon would even have corner stores that stayed open past ten pm. I pulled out a cigarette, used my magic to light it, and looked up at the flashing 24 HOUR sign having over my head.

Smoke snaked through my lungs, filling my bloodstream with nicotine. Most of the time I didn't smoke; it tasted like shit and was tough to get out of my nice clothes, but when I did, it was usually because stress gripped me tight and shook the ever-loving life out of me. At the moment, my stress was at an all-time high. Working with the pack was like a gift of normalcy. I went from drifting across the country in search of a sorry son of a bitch hunter to exploit or a woman with soft thighs I could bury my face into. Now, I had a place to lay my head down, a place to work, and a car. I had a boss, and a coworker, and friends. Most importantly, for the first time in a long time, I had friends.

Smoke billowed around me as I blew it out my mouth and into the chilly evening air. Dean was still in the store picking through stacks of pie and bags of pork rinds when I felt a tickle on my shoulders. My head swiveled, searching the empty streets for something, anything.

I took another drag, trying to calm my frayed nerves. There was nothing around me and there was no way Crowley could have found me so quickly, except that he knew I was with Dean and Sam. He would have known we’d have to leave at some point, grab food or supplies.

Fuck.

I turned my neck to try and grab Dean’s attention, but I was a second too late.

The sound of heavy breaths and growls pierced my ears. My skirt spun as I did and saw the cloud of breath that could only come from one of Crowley’s hellhounds. My body stiffened, frozen with fear as heavy steps pounded the concrete. “Dean!” I called, but my voice was hoarse and quiet, guaranteeing that he hadn't heard me. “Dean!” I called again. I slammed my palms against the window of the store, but that minute shift was enough to send the hellhound into a frenzy.

My cigarette fell from my fingers as I turned and broke into a sprint. My feet pounded the ground as I raced through the empty streets, searching for some place for me to barricade myself. If I was able to find some place safe, I could regroup, brand my blade.

I looked over my shoulder, stupidly and out of instinct, searching for any sign of the hound following me. Sharp claws scratched against the concrete, grating my ears, but I saw nothing. Without Dean’s special glasses, there was nothing for me to see. Pushing my legs harder, I turned back around and slammed into something—someone—nose first, and fell to the ground. Asphalt scraped up my knees and blood dripped from the gash on my nose.

“Now where d’ya think you're going, dearie?”

My eyes lifted, taking in the cobalt blue velvet dress pooling around a pair of expensive heels. Magic swarmed my senses from her energy, suffocating me with its strength and age. I smirked, refusing to bow down as my eyes met with Rowena MacLeod, ringlets of red hair falling around her slim, pale, cheeks.

“You fucking bitch,” I spat, using her slender legs to pull myself up. “I should have known there was a witch behind this.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” Rowena bent down, her eyes glowing violet with magic, and cupped my chin in her cold, small hands. “But you didn't, did you?”

Somewhere off in the distance, I heard Dean calling my name, but with Rowena’s grip on me tight, there was nothing he could do. She whispered a spell, breathing violent flames of magic into my nostrils, and I swiftly fell into the throes of darkness.


	7. Simply Put, She Was Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra finds herself alone and trapped.

Cold, wet stones pressed against my cheeks, making me devastatingly aware that I was, indeed no longer safe in Kansas. The air around me was frigid and dry, irritating the back of my throat. My face hurt, my legs were tired, and my knees were burning. All of which were sweet reminders that, somehow, Crowley had gotten in bed with a witch, and actually found a way to capture me.

Immediately, I reached down my leg toward my boots where I kept my knives sheathed. My fingers searched and found nothing. Before I opened my eyes to the complete reality I faced, I wanted to be prepared, ready to strike at any moment, but they were gone.

I focused my mind on my energy and my magic. Expecting the sweet tickle of magic on my toes, I waited, grasping at hollow air, only to feel nothing. No spirits, no magic, no current of energy trickling over my skin.

“Not to worry, dearie, you won't be needing that anymore.”

My eyes flung open with rage at the sound of the Scottish witch’s voice. Rowena stood in front of me, her small, porcelain hands wrapped around the iron bars of the cage that kept me locked inside. Her sly grin melted into her face in a most sinister way. I pulled myself to my feet, pushing down against the soreness in my muscles, hoping with every beat of my heart that I had the chance to beat her prissy ass.

“Where the hell am I? What the fuck did you do to my magic?”

Demons gathered in the corners of the room, providing her with the necessary backup. I tried not to smirk at the realization that she knew she couldn't manage me all on her own, even if I was locked behind bars and stripped of my magic. Rowena, one of the greatest witches that ever lived was afraid of what I could do to her, and it brought me immeasurable pride. Too bad pride wouldn’t get me out of this stupid cage.

Her heels clacked against the cobblestone tiles expertly laid on the ground as she sauntered to one side of the room. Her hands slid across the bars until she reached what looked like an end table positioned just out of view from my new room. She picked something up and swung it in the air between her fingers. A hex bag. “It's just a bit of insurance,” she said, her words rolling through her Scottish accent. “Can't be too careful, you know?”

I stomped forward, rage building with each step. “Let me out, now!” I demanded.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Looks like you’ve gone and gotten too big for your britches, huh? Casting spells you’ve got no business casting.” Her voice was beautiful, like bells ringing over the quiet skies, but anything that made her beautiful was turned rotten by her gross wretchedness.

I narrowed my eyes, piercing into her deeply. “What are you talking about? Do I look like I wear britches?”

Rowena giggled. “You think you're funny, don't you?”

I smiled wide, being sure that all of my teeth peeked through my lips. “I'm not just funny, Rowena. I'm fucking hilarious.” I searched the room, hoping to find where she stashed my knives, but the room was so dark, there wasn't much for me to see. “Where are they?”

Magic buzzed through the air as she called my blades to her, one of them landing in each of her hands. “Oh, you meant these?” Earth and Wind were nestled in her palms, taunting me. “You've got to tell me how you’ve made these bloody beauties. They're spectacular.”

“No dice.”

Rowena twirled my blades in her hands and they looked like they were too heavy for her to handle. Of course, that was because they were _my_ fucking blades. “You shouldn't argue with someone as well respected as me, Zephyra.”

I flippantly waved my hand and turned away from her. She seemed like the kind of person that was desperate for attention and thought the only way she could receive it was through nefarious means. “Well, in that case, I am so sorry, grandma.”

Rowena's gown trailed behind her as she paced the width of the room. “Trust me, dearie, I’m not your Nanna. I knew your Nanna, and she was a great witch. She hated me, but she was a master at the craft.”

“Well, that feeling must run in the family,” I quipped.

Rowena chuckled softly, still flipping my blades between her fingers. “Your Nanna was strong, powerful, and your mother, well, she was a great potion maker, but she was a terrible leader.”

“Shut up,” I said, gritting my teeth. Any chance of mercy I would have shown Rowena based on my respect for her three hundred years of witchcraft quickly evaporated at the mention of my mother.

She halted, her cold, emerald eyes glaring at me with intensity. “She was weak, Zephyra. It's fascinating that she gave birth to a bitch like you.”

I launched myself forward, my hands wrapping around the bars as she yelped and jumped backward, dropping my blades to the ground. Fucking asshole didn't even bother to pick them up. Instead, she kicked them carelessly to the side. “Keep her name out your goddamned mouth, Rowena.”

Gathering herself, she brushed her curls out of her eyes and smiled. “You're nothing like her. No, Zep, you're stronger, smarter.” She walked back to the cell leaning in close to me. “You'd do whatever you had to, even if it meant killing your friend's father. But the one thing you had in common with her is your self-righteous decision to keep that book of yours all to yourself.”

I sucked my teeth and took a slow step away from the bars, and away from her. Every word seemed to be a piece of the puzzle that I didn't know was missing. For those that didn't know I had the Book of Gold Letters in my possession, making demon-killing knives was a dead give away. And for those who knew, it was even more a reason to take it from me.

Rowena, I assumed, was from the latter class. Being as old and well learned as she was, I knew she had been aware of my family's lineage, our duty. Only now she had the means and the demonic backup. “So what do you want the book for, Rowena? Revenge? Power? Greed?”

Her lip twitched. It was a small movement, one I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been well versed in the art of people. “I want the damn book because I want the damn book,” she growled. “Where is it, Zephyra?”

My lips curled up in a devilish grin. “All three, Rowena?” Her eyes dropped to the ground as she sucked in a huge breath. I took slow, precise steps toward her, taking stock of my blades still sitting on the floor out of the corner of my eyes. “Let me guess, you want to get back at the Grand Coven for what they did to you all those years ago?” She raised her eyes, bugging wide open, as her breath caught in her throat. Pride swelled in my chest; I had her.

“And what do you know about that? You weren't even a wee child then.”

I chewed what was left of the skin on my lip and lowered my voice. “Rowena, dear, it's my job to know about the things people don't want me to know about. Just as it's my job to protect that book from witches like you.”

Rowena scoffed, her hands laying flat on her chest. “Like me?” she asked. “Witches like me are the reason witches like you even exist! I've got more power in my bones than you do in your pinky fingernail.”

“And yet, I'm the one that has the Book of Gold Letters.”

Her hair swung around her as she turned away from me. She wasn't wrong. Rowena was one of the most powerful witches that ever existed. Even without the blessing of the Grand Coven, her gifts rivaled none, even me. She was a cunning woman, and as bitter as they came.

When she turned back around to me there was a fire burning in her eyes. “True, but imagine what the two of us could do together. Me and my three centuries of knowledge, and you with your fearless bravado and that book. Zephyra NightWolfe, we could rule the world.”

“Tempting,” I said quickly. And it was. With witches so scattered around following the Men of Letters disbanding, the Grand Coven was no longer the powerhouse that it once was, and neither was the WISE. However, I could never work with Rowena. She was spiteful and reckless, and, quite simply put, she was evil. And I'd done enough evil to last me a lifetime.

I gave her a smug smirk. “But no thanks.”

She huffed, stomping her heels against the stone floor. “I never thought you'd be a Grand Coven loyalist. Not after everything they've done.”

I folded my arms across my chest and nodded. “Oh trust me, my loyalty isn't to those arrogant, racist, cunts. It's to my mother and to—” I stopped myself. I couldn't say her name. Letting Rowena know that I was connected to Jazzy would put her right in the danger I was trying so damn hard to protect her from.

But my abrupt halt piqued her interest. Her tongue ran across her bright red lips as she hissed, “to whom, dear?”

“No one but myself,” I answered.

Rowena’s gaze narrowed as thoughts swarmed her mind. “For the benefit of he, or she, all of us could be bloody unstoppable. With my experience, your talent, and that book, we could do wonderful things, Zephyra.”

My eyes widened at the idea of working with Rowena. She was right; there was something wonderful we could do together. Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't be for the reason she wanted, nor in the way she wanted.

“Okay.”

She stared at me, slack-jawed, shocked at my response. “Okay? Did you just say, okay?”

I nodded confidently. “Okay.”

A high pitched squeal exploded from Rowena’s throat, her face beaming. The sound of her hands clapping together echoed loudly through the room. “Oh, wonderful!”

The atmosphere of the room shifted. I assumed, at first that it had to do with Rowena, her energy brightening with my agreement, but it was more than that. Magic pooled around me tickling my skin like a light, misty rain. But it wasn't witch magic, no, it was warm like sunshine, like the pack.

My gaze shifted to the right side of the room. If I hadn't have been paying attention, I wouldn't have noticed the heavy metal door sliding open in a movement that I wouldn't think possible if I hadn't known that werewolves made the impossible possible every single day.

My heart jumped out of my chest when I caught a glimpse of Daryl's bright gold eyes. Even in the dark room, his large frame was a massive silhouette that would intimidate even the most courageous warrior. They'd come for me.

Quickly and quietly, Daryl took out the demon standing closest to the door. He covered the demon’s mouth and slit his throat, slowly lowering it to the ground. Thankfully, the knife in his hand was the one Jazzy and I had made before we made mine.

It wouldn't be long before the demon on the other side of the room noticed, therefore making Rowena aware, and I didn't have any magic. My gaze drifted to the end table where her hex bag had been placed. It was out of my reach between the bars, and I couldn't just reach past Rowena to grab it, and Daryl and the wolf now with him—Ben—wouldn't have much time.

Everything happened in quick succession. “But on one condition,” I said, reigning Rowena and her excitement in. I beckoned for her to come closer to me as I pressed my chest against the bars.

“Anything.”

As Ben flew through the air, tackling the demon to the ground, I yanked on the collar of Rowena's dress and pulled her as close to the bars as I could get her, and rammed my head into hers. She fell backward, landing hard on the stone floor. “You bloody bitch!” she spat.

Behind her, Daryl stabbed the knife through the other demon and Ben shoved Rowena down to the ground with his paws. “Get off me ya beast! Get off me!”

Ben’s tongue fell out of his mouth as he looked at me happily. He hated me, but he was a part of Adam's pack; he'd do anything to protect the pack. “Get me out of this thing,” I begged. Daryl searched Rowena's dress for the keys and unlocked the cell door. “Do you have a lighter?”

Daryl handed me one from his pocket and I grabbed the hex bag off the end table, setting it ablaze. Immediately, I felt my magic return to me like a raging waterfall. It prickled my skin and washed through me like waves crashing along a dry, sandy, beach. Quickly, I called my blades to me and felt whole again with them in my grasp.

“Are you okay?” Daryl asked. His dark brows knitted together with worry.

I nodded. “I'm fine, just a bit scraped up. Is it just the two of you?”

Daryl shook his head. “The Winchesters are here, but they may be in trouble.”

Of course, they were. Sam made fun of me for always getting into trouble, but the same could hold true for them. Unfortunately, this time, their trouble was because of my trouble.

I fought the urge to rush over to Daryl and give him a hug. Right now his mind was on getting us all to safety, but that was only part of my current mission. “Thank you,” I said to him.

Daryl bowed his head to me and smiled. With the golden eyes of his wolf, it was a striking contrast, but it was one that I'd long accepted to be adorable. Both Daryl and his wolf cared for me like I was one of their cubs. His gaze traveled downward to Ben who still had Rowena pressed into the ground, even though she had been knocked out somewhere along the way. “What would you have us do with her?”

I tapped my finger against my chin and considered my options. Of course, I could kill her and be done with it, but I'd been making a concerted effort to only kill monsters and demons, just as the ancestors intended. I needed her. She was right about having a wealth of knowledge and experience that I simply hadn't been around long enough to acquire. Sam and Dean needed her.

I sighed. “Did Sam and Dean drive separately?” Daryl nodded. “Then take her with you back to Lebanon.”

“Zephyra,” he growled.

I waved my hand at him and started for the door. “Keep her alive. Take her back to Lebanon and hide her somewhere away from the bunker. I've got two Winchesters to save.”

I didn't wait for Daryl's protests or Ben’s snivels. There was no doubt in my mind that Daryl would do as I asked, even if it was with reluctance. For now, that was enough for me to refocus on the task at hand: saving Sam and Dean from Crowley.


	8. Leave Me and My People Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zephyra fights through a horde of demons to save the Winchesters.

Demons paced the hallways, arms clasped neatly behind their backs and steps calculated. If they knew that I had broken out, things would have been more chaotic, but as it seemed, none of them were expecting to find me wandering the halls…yet.

I pressed my back against the stone walls, keeping myself as small and thin as I possibly could. Since I was unfamiliar with the layout of the building, I closed my eyes, focusing on Sam and Dean's energies. It had been ages since I'd astral projected like this, without preparation, but it was quicker than roaming through the hallways and hoping for the best.

Magic swirled around me as my consciousness drifted away from my body and toward the boys. I floated above the demons, unable to be registered by their corporeal eyes. I counted the demons traveling through the halls as I was led to a great room where Sam and Dean knelt in front of Crowley. Their arms were tied behind their backs and demons surrounded them. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was abundantly clear to me that they were in trouble.

I pulled my consciousness back into my body, taking note of every twist and turn as I returned. I gasped as my consciousness snapped back into my body. Quickly, I looked around, hoping that no stray demons had snuck up on me. Regardless, it would end up dead before I did.

When the coast was clear, I stepped out into the hallway, blades gripped tightly in my hands. With the Winchesters here, there was no point in sneaking around. Though Crowley hadn’t been smart enough to send a few black-eyed assholes after me the second the Winchesters were made, it wouldn’t be long before he did. A mischievous smile tickled my lips and I rolled my shoulders back. “Let’s go.”

Two demons stood on either side of the wide hallway. Daggers slipped out of their sleeves when they saw me, and stood shoulder to shoulder to block me from passing. I moved swiftly, digging my dagger into the throat of one demon until I saw the gold light flickering inside of it’s skin. The second demon swung on me, trying to catch me off guard, but I was smarter, and faster. I shot my elbow into it’s chin, forcing it back and into the wall. As it stumbled, I shoved my blade into it’s gut and twisted.

I yanked my blades back and out of the demons’ bodies and ran forward. There were two more waiting for me as I turned on to the next hallway. They stalked toward me, vicious snarls curling up their lips, and pitch-black eyes fixed on me. Not wanting to waste any time, I threw my blade toward them. It tumbled through the air and the point went through the demon’s brain. It’s body slumped to the ground with a loud thud that echoed down the hallway.

The second demon stupidly rushed toward me, it’s own blade high above it’s head, and aimed at me. Air whirled around me as I ducked below it’s swing and wrapped my arms around it’s waist, shoving it into the wall behind us. Holding my forearm to it’s throat, I jammed my blade up through its jaw until lights flickered beneath its skin.

When I turned around to call Wind back into my grasp, a group of four of five demons marched toward me from the foyer that led into the great room where Crowley was with the Winchesters. I stood still, my feet squared and firm on the ground. “Oh, you came to join the fun, huh?”

“You’re gonna die, witch,” one screamed as they charged toward me.

I shrugged. “Eventually, Demon Tammy, but not today!” I raised Earth and Wind high above my head and flung them in the direction of the demons. The two in the front went down with quickness, the blades digging into their skulls with fierce precision. Golden light flickered under their skin as their bodies convulsed and spasmed before collapsing to the floor.

I held out my palms and called my blades back to me. The unforgiving steel of their handles slammed into my hands with a forceful bite. I twirled them in my fingers, keeping my sights on the demons coming toward me.

As I got close, I kicked the first one, knocking him back into the others. One of them avoided contact and pushed past their comrades, coming for me. His fist connected with my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over in an attempt to catch my breath, but the demon’s knee quickly connected with my jaw, sending me backward into the wall. Pain radiated down my back as the demon wrapped it’s hands around my neck. Slowly, the air in my lungs slithered out of my mouth, and I struggled to refill them.

“The king will love to have your head on a silver platter,” he spat.

“I’m sure he would, Demon Number Eight,” I choked out, “but unfortunately for him, and for you, it ain’t gonna happen.”

The demon’s lips peeled back in a snarl as his grip tightened around my throat. I blinked, fighting against the black spots appearing in my vision. If I passed out, that would be it for me. The demon would kill me and all of this would be for nothing. Dean would be safe, but maybe Sam wouldn’t. And Jazzy wouldn’t be either.

My eyes flicked over the demon’s shoulder to the two demons flanking his rear. They stood, proud and sure that they’d won their battle with me. Fiendish smirks stretched their lips, etching lines in their cheeks. They assumed they’d won, that they got the big bad witch and could bring me to Demon Daddy.

Unfortunately for them, they were wrong.

The spell came to me quickly as I whispered it. The demon stared down at me, confused with my words, but by the time it realized what was happening, it was too late for it and for it’s friends. The flanking demons burst into flames at my command. Flames consumed them, eating away at their skin and searing through the fibers of their hair. The stench wafted into my nostrils and I couldn’t ignore the sweet smell of victory.

The demon’s fingers slackened as it glanced over it’s shoulder in shock at what I’d done with it’s friends. When it turned around to face me again, I grinned. “Bye-bye, now.” Wind dug deep into the demon’s gut, slicing through the soft organs of his vessel. It gripped at my blade as I twisted it, mouth agape as the demon inside lit up like fucking fireworks until it’s body fell limp on the ground.

I leaned against the wall for a moment, catching my breath as much as I could before shoving my blade into one of the flame covered demons. The blade slid out cleanly and I burst through the double doors that led into Crowley’s great room.

The demon at the door spun, bringing the conversation in the room to a halt. I swung my blade, cutting the demon’s head off. Blood dripped from my blade and stained my dress and shirt as the head rolled between Sam and Dean and stopped at Crowley’s black, leather, shoes. All eyes in the room turned to me as I stood, chest heaving, with my blades down at my sides and my hair a curly mess.

My eyes landed on Crowley’s and a rush of power flowed through me. I stepped forward, walking between Sam and Dean where they knelt on the ground. “Hiya, Crowley!”

His breath hitched as he met my glare, hands stuffed in the pockets of his knee-length duster. He tried to hide the fear that lit up in his eyes as he got his first good look at me. His skin paled and his lips parted in awe of the great Zephyra NightWolfe. Mom would be proud.

Crowley cleared his throat and stepped down off his massive throne. “What the hell did you do?” he asked, his British accent filling the silence in the room.

I kept my hands wrapped tightly around my blades and begun pacing the room. “Well, first, I knocked out your witch, then I killed a shit ton of your demons, and now, I’m going kick your ugly, demon ass, unless…” I paused, feeding off of the fear of every demon in the room. “You let these handsome young lads go.”

Sam and Dean broke into laughter at my sides. “She thinks we’re handsome, Sammy,” Dean said, “can you imagine that?”

I looked at him and winked, at the same time assessing to make sure he was okay. Because of the Mark, I was sure that Dean would physically be fine. The Mark of Cain was intended to keep it’s wearer safe, but with demons, I could never be too sure.

I turned my attention to Sam, who didn’t have the added protection of the Mark. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks to the collar of his t-shirt. Bruises covered his cheeks and a cut was haphazardly placed just above one of his brows.

“Why on earth would I let the Winchesters go?” Crowley asked, his voice low and gruff. “I’ve got them so nicely wrapped up with bows and things. When will I ever have this again?”

I sighed and twirled my blades in my hands. “I thought you were butt buddies with the Winchesters, Crowley. What happened?”

“What happened? They busted in here demanding that I release you, and then you killed all my demons!” He screamed, veins protruding from his neck.

“Yeah, that’s after the part where you and your witch sent demons and hellhounds after me. But, hey, we’re all adults here, so we can stop this and call it even, what d’ya say?” I put my hands behind my back and swayed back and forth on the balls of my feet. The movement made me seem relaxed, but it was also preparing my legs to jump and fight if necessary. Demons were predictably unpredictable. You could present them with a fine deal such as this, and they would still be too stupid to take it because of ego and pride.

“You should take it,” Dean said, goading his red-eyed friend. “She’s crazy, crazier than even me, and that’s sayin’ something.”

Crowley looked to Dean, considering my offer. He rolled his lips together, pressing them in a hard line as he mulled over his options. He remained quiet, much to my dismay, and stood still at the foot of his throne.

My impatience led me to step forward with a heavy sigh. “Crowley, it looks like you need a little help, so let me lay out your options as clearly as possible. Either you let me, Sam, and Dean go, and tell all of your demons and hellhounds to retreat, leave me and my people be, and I don’t kill you. Or you let me, Sam, and Dean, go and tell your demons and hellhounds to back off and leave my people be so that I don’t kill you. Make sense?”

He rolled his eyes, unamused by my explanation, and grunted. “And what? Be made to look like a fool by a bloody witch?”

I scrunched my face. “Honestly, Crowley, you kind of do that on your own.”

Behind me, a demon snickered, catching Crowley’s attention. “What’s so funny?”

I didn’t turn around to see the demon, but his laughter abruptly stopped and his voice lowered. “Sorry, my Liege.”

Crowley pulled one of his hands from his pockets and held it up in the air. “Damn right you’re sorry.” He snapped his fingers, and the sound of liquified flesh splattered against a wall. I wasn’t sure if I felt blood and flesh against the back of my leg or not; I didn’t want to know if I had.

Crowley returned his attention to me and replaced his hand in his pocket. “What did you do with Rowena?”

“She’s, um, taking a bit of a catnap. I’m sure she’ll be fine when she wakes, besides a hell of a hangover, of course.” The giddy smile on my lips dissipated, as exhaustion and frustration took ownership of my features. “But she didn’t get what she wanted, Crowley, and neither will you. But me, I always get what I want, it’s just a matter of when.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“I want you to leave me and mine alone. No more demons, no more hellhounds, no sleazy motel rooms, cheap beer, and cold pizza. Sounds easy enough to me.”

He stepped down from this throne and walked around me and the boys in wide circles. It was a power play, but I wouldn’t fall for it. I knew better. “Zephyra, you discovered the secret behind the demon-killing knife that Ruby gifted Sam and Dean. Not only that, but you recreated some for yourself. You bust in here, making demands, but I have more reasons to kill you than to keep you alive.”

I nodded. Certainly, I was a threat to his monarchy. Crowley couldn’t be king of Hell if I killed all his demons. He couldn’t be king of Hell if hunters and witches all over the country had their hands on demon-killing knives. I squared my shoulders and tilted my chin upward. “Then I won’t make any more knives.”

“What?” Sam and Dean exclaimed in unison.

“If that’s what it takes to keep the people I care about safe, then so be it.”

“Zep, are you sure about that?” Sam asked.

I swallowed hard. There was no other option. Running from a demon with a head shaped like a big toe wasn’t how I imagined living the rest of my fabulous life. And this was about more than me. This was about the pack. This was about Jazzy, and I’d do anything to keep them all safe.

“There are other ways to protect people from these black-eyed fuckers. You know me, I’ll just get creative.” I smiled, attempting to ease his worry.

“Deal,” Crowley said, walking around Dean to return to his throne. The carved wood throne, gold, with red velvet cushions framed his shoulders like he was the subject in a medieval painting.

“Good choice,” I said.

“Should we seal it with a kiss?” His lips turned up in a smirk, his eyes looking me up and down slowly. “I do love what you’ve done to the dress.”

I sneered and spun on my heels, replacing Wind and Earth in their sheaths. “Eat me, Crowley.”

“Believe me, I’ll try.” He snapped his fingers, releasing Sam and Dean from their magical binding.

I leaned down, helping Sam to stand and eyeing the wounds on his face. “Are you okay?” I asked.

Sam nodded and brushed his hair from his hazel eyes. “I’m fine. What about you?”

I smiled, pressing my hands to his cheeks. “You know me, bitches can’t keep me down.” I turned to Dean as he dusted the dirt off of his jacket and jeans, and sighed. “You ready?”

He nodded and took a quick glance over his shoulder at Crowley. The rage in his eyes shook me to my core, sending chills up and down my spine. I shuddered but felt thankful that he was on my side and not my enemy. On his own, Dean Winchester was vicious, but with the Mark…

I wrapped my hand around his arm, getting his attention. “Come on,” I whispered. At first, he didn’t budge, glaring coldly at Crowley, but once he was pleased with himself, he smiled at me.

Cold eyes were swiftly replaced with warmth as he leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Thank you, Zep, even though I had everything handled.”

I winked and smiled, trying not to let my quiet distress be known. “I know you did, but I had to come make the big save anyway.”

We walked together through the wide, arching doors and out into the hallway. The demons that I’d killed on my way littered the floor. We stepped over them making our way to the entrance of the building where the Impala was sure to be waiting for us.


	9. Zep's Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Dead or Alive. Zephyra says goodbye to the Winchesters and makes good on one of her promises.

The Winchesters were gracious enough to allow me to stay at the bunker for a couple days until my wounds were healed and I'd gotten as much blood out of my dress as I possibly could. They were hospitable in allowing me to pick the menus for half of the meals we shared together, which meant pasta, salmon, and homemade gumbo would set my body right after weeks of cheap pizza and watered-down beer. Thankfully, they even allowed me to buy them top-shelf whiskey as a gift for their hospitality.

After days of chillaxing and creating new memories with my favorite hunting brother act, it was time for me to return home. Daryl and Ben stopped by a few times, refusing to leave for Washington without me. I assured Daryl day after day that I was safe to drive home on my own, especially after he bought me a new phone with all the pack’s numbers programmed into it. But he heard none of it. He and Ben stayed at a hotel in Lawrence until I called to let them know I was coming home.

I stood up on the tips of my toes to wrap Dean in a big hug. Since he was so damned tall, he still had to bend over so I could reach his neck. Surprisingly he squeezed me tight as if he wasn't quite ready to let me go. I was grateful that after saving each other at Crowley's he'd given up the facade of hatred. Yes, what I'd done to his family was unforgivable, but I was just so damned cute, how could anyone resist me?

“Thank you,” I whispered into his ear, holding on to him. “Thank you for everything.”

His soft lips brushed the side of my cheek. “Thank you for keeping Sammy safe.”

Reluctantly, he peeled away from me, but a gentle smile remained on his pained face. For now, the Mark hadn't claimed his kindness and I was grateful for it, but it still nagged me that he didn't want me to help. My hand grazed the Mark as I pulled away from him, magic prickling my skin like needles. I lingered there, and I wondered if he felt the magic in the same way that I did.

I looked up, meeting his curious gaze as wind whipped my hair into my cheeks. “You know, I could stick around and help with this.”

He slowly pulled his arm back, unrolling the dark blue sleeve of his flannel to cover the Mark in question. “It's not your problem, Zep.” Though he wouldn't mention it, I could see the fear deep in his eyes. The Mark changed him, made him lose control in a way that got people hurt. Because he was my friend, it was my problem.

But he didn't want to show the fear he felt. He wanted to hide the anger festering inside of him from me and everyone else who cared for him. I smiled, trying not to acknowledge the vulnerability I'd seen in him. “All you need to do is say the word, Deanie, and I'll make it my problem. I'll make that Mark my bitch if I have to.”

He laughed, crinkles forming on the sides of his eyes as he hung his head. He licked his lips, glancing quickly at his brother standing beside him. “Nah, I think Sam and I’ve got this handled. You just take care of you and our girl, got it?”

I couldn't lie to him and say that I wouldn't let it bother me, so I simply nodded. I turned to Sam, seeing the wounds on his face healed. Yellow discoloration from his bruises was the only remaining evidence of our battle with Crowley, a battle that we’d won. He leaned down, swallowing me whole in his embrace.

“You sure you don't want any more of my salve?” I asked him, speaking mostly into the fabric of his shirt. “I've got plenty if you just wanna keep a jar, you know, just in case.”

The air from his laughter tickled my cheek, which primed me for the kiss he would land there. “I'm fine, Zep, I promise.”

I held on to his hands when he pulled away. There was something so comforting about Sam. Everything about him was so warm and kind, and I'd miss that about him. “Well, if you change your mind, I can always mail you some, or even swing by if you'd like.”

He beamed looking down at me, and his smile was even brighter than the hot sun boring down on us. “Zep, you don't need a reason to stop by. I mean, since you can literally get into whatever Men of Letters chapter house in the country, you can swing by to visit whenever you want.”

“I second that,” Dean added. “And, uh, be sure to bring that friend of yours around with you next time.”

Of course, he'd want Jazzy to come along. Those two made me sick with their pining. I wanted to smoosh them together like Barbie dolls and make them kiss already. “You know, you could send her a personal, very sexy, invite yourself.”

Dean's cheeks flushed and he scratched absently at his growing stubble. “Yeah, I might have to,” he said; both of us knew he wouldn't. Definitely not now with the Mark. His eyes fell to his arm and he rubbed at the skin over his sleeve. “Don't tell her about this, okay?”

I rolled my eyes but nodded. Keeping their secrets would be the end of me. Deep down, I knew they’d end up together again, but watching them do their avoidant thing was painful.

I released Sam’s wrists from my grasp and looked up at him, squinting my eyes to protect them from the unrelenting sunlight. “Actually, Sam, could I talk to you for a minute? There's something I wanted to talk to you about before I left.”

Sam’s eyes widened and his gaze shifted over to his brother. Once Dean realized his brother's apprehension, he reached over and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “Alright, Zep.” He turned, starting for the door of the bunker. “Just use a condom, ya filthy kids!” he teased and ducked back into the bunker.

“What's up?” Sam asked.

I jerked my head toward Mercy's old Beetle. “You wanna take a quick drive with me?”

All six foot four inches of Sam Winchester looked hilarious cramped into the passenger side of the Beetle. Regardless of how far back he pushed the seat, his knees pressed against the dashboard. Luckily, the drive to where we were going wasn't too far from the bunker, but I did feel bad for laughing at him the whole way there.

I pulled up to the abandoned James Brothers Distillery in Lawrence, parking behind the rental Volvo that belonged to Daryl. According to Ben, the brothers went bankrupt and the banks that owned it never did anything with it, which was almost seven years ago. It was a shame. Once we were done using it, I'd make a mental note to tell Adam about some interesting real estate.

“What is this?” Sam asked, awkwardly getting out of the car.

I walked over to his side, stifling the laugh bubbling up inside of me, and closed the door when all of his legs were out of Mercy's tiny contraption. “It's an old distillery,” I answered.

Sam looked around at the dilapidated building shrouded in darkness. Narrow eyes examined the area around us until they finally landed on me. “Why'd you bring me here?”

I fidgeted with my keys and dug the toe of my boot into the dry dirt on the ground. I knew what I did was a bad idea, but I couldn't just walk away from them knowing that Dean needed me. He wouldn't ask for help with the Mark, but Sam did. They helped me, so I wanted to help them in any way that I could.

“You helped me with Crowley, and now it's my turn to help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sam, you remember the witch I mentioned when I spoke with Crowley?” He nodded, his hair flopping around him in the wind. “I kind of took her from Crowley.”

Sam tilted his head to the side and stared at me, question marks covering every inch of his perfectly chiseled face. “Zep, what the hell did you do?”

“Rowena is old, Sam, over three hundred years old. I just figured that if I didn't have the knowledge or experience to get rid of the Mark, surely she would.”

Sam scoffed, confused, unsure, holding his palms up to me. He shook his head and raked his hands through his hair. “You took Rowena from Crowley, and brought her here?” I nodded, hearing the multitude of feelings shift through his voice. “When? How?”

“You know the werewolves that came out to help? Well, once they busted me out, I had them take her, bring her here.”

“So what, put a nickel in her and she spits out a spell?”

I laughed at Sam, the imagery of those old machines that spit out a fortune looking like Rowena filling me with random joy. I stopped myself once I'd seen that he wasn't actually joking, and cleared my throat. “No, Sam, not quite.”

His arms stretched out wide at his sides as he towered over me. “Then what is it, Zep? Because you told Dean you were going to leave it alone.”

“Yes, I did, but _you_ asked for my help, and what am I if not an excellent helper?” He dropped his hands at his sides and groaned. “Look, I've got her chained to a fucking pillar so she can't move around, and I put up some powerful ass warding, so she can't get out.” I wrapped my fingers around the zipper part of his jacket and craned my neck to meet his hazel eyes. “You asked me, and here is my delivery.”

“No, Zep, I asked for _your_ help, not some murderous ass witch.”

“Sam!” I sighed, sedating the agitation simmering in my chest. “You know, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but, she's better than me.” He turned away from me, scoffing, and releasing my grip on his jacket. “Rowena has been creating her own spells for centuries. She's taken on the biggest covens, and won.”

Sam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what was there to be angry about. He asked for my help, so I helped. Sure, it didn't look like how either of us was expecting, but it was all we had, which was still something.

“Zep, you are a wiz with spells. Why can’t that be enough?”

I nodded in agreement. Yes, I was wonderful with spells, remembering them, creating them, but Rowena could do so much more. “Sam, witches today use spells Rowena created over a century ago. I'm a wiz, but she's a fucking genius. I mean, yeah, if circumstances were different I would have killed her back at Crowley's, slit her fucking throat, but we need her. You've seen that look in Dean's eyes. You've seen the darkness swirling inside him.”

There was no reason to deny it, so he didn't, but there was still so much apprehension on his part. Rowena was evil. She was a self-serving rat that survived everything that was ever thrown at her, which was why she was the best person for this mission. Rowena was smart and resourceful, so she could solve the unsolvable. I just needed Sam to see that.

I grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door of the distillery. “C’mon.”

Ben and Daryl were waiting impatiently when we walked through the doorway. I smiled, surprised to see that Ben had maintained his human form, though his eyes glowed golden brown, showing me that his wolf was more in control than he was at the moment. Typical Ben.

In contrast, Daryl stood over Rowena, his dark skin stretching over thick muscles that weren't made in the gym. He towered over her and kept his hands down to his sides. His brown eyes flashed with relief as I pulled Sam over to him.

I could sense Sam’s unease when he saw them. He'd met them before, of course, when they visited Jazzy in the Tri-Cities a couple years ago. Unfortunately, I wasn't there yet, so I missed the epic showdown between Ben and Dean. In hindsight, I probably should have mentioned them to Sam before I dragged him in here with me, but what was done was done.

“You remember Ben and Daryl,” I said to Sam. He nodded curtly at them both and they returned the favor. I bit my tongue fighting the urge to make a joke about Ben behaving like a respectable person.

As if he'd sensed my desire, he growled. It was short-lived, though, once Daryl shot him a hot glare.

Rowena straightened her back against the chair she was sitting in just under Daryl. Her cheek was still bruised from when I head-butted her. I assumed, since she was paler and physically more fragile, it would take much longer to heal. Seeing evidence that I'd gotten one, or two, over on the infamous Rowena MacLeod filled me with childlike glee.

“Zephyra,” she spat, but even I could hear the reverence in it.

Smugly, I grinned and released Sam’s hand from mine. “Rowena.”

Her eyes sparkled like a lake absorbing the light from sunset when she laid eyes on Sam. Her lips parted slightly as she gasped. “Samuel Winchester,” she cooed.

“It's Sam,” he corrected.

I didn't bother hiding my laughter this time. I savored Rowena's offended glare as I walked toward her. I leaned over the mahogany table she sat at and pressed my palms to the surface. “Rowena, you're going to help Sam with whatever he tells you to do.”

Rowena rolled her eyes at me and hissed. “I will not!”

I slammed my hand against the table, hearing the snap of my flesh echo through the room. She jumped, the perfect red ringlets of her hair bouncing. “Yes, you will. You don't have a fucking choice here.”

“That's what you say, but I know differently.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out, relaxing the pent up tension in my shoulders. “You people annoy the shit out of me,” I snapped. “I don't understand what you don't get about this. You're always like, 'Nah, I won't do it, cause I'm big and bad’, blah, blah, blah. You always need me to lay out the options for you, when it's clear to me and everyone else around me that you have no options. You help Sam or you die. Those are your fucking options.”

She opened her mouth, her gasp the ghost of the protest she was about to give if I hadn’t stopped her. I pointed my index finger in her direction and gave her a nasty look. Ignoring my warning, she tried again but stopped short when she felt a jolt of magic shock her fingertips.

Rowena jumped at the sensation and pressed her fingers to her lips to soothe the pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“That was an infinitesimal taste of what I will do to you if you don't do what Sam says. You follow every order, every instruction down to the T. And if I get a call from Sam that you aren't cooperating, I will drive down from Washington and skewer you like a fucking hot dog! Comprender, mi amor?”

Rowena sputtered, trying to argue, but quickly, she realized there was no use. Of course, the violet light glowing in my dark eyes had nothing to do with her surrender. “Yes,” was all she said, which was enough for me.

“Good.” I spun around, the skirt of my dress lifting up and falling back down when I faced Sam. His lips were pulled tight and his eyes were narrowed. “She's all yours,” I said, patting him on his chest.

Before I pulled my hand back, he grabbed onto my wrist. “Can we talk outside, please?”

Without waiting for my response he yanked me behind him and out the front door of the distillery. Once we were alone with the sun and wind, he released me and scrubbed his hair with his hand. “Sam, if you wanted to make out, we could have stayed inside, made the rest of them watch,” I teased.

He looked at me, deadpanned, and then rolled his eyes. “Dammit, Zep, are you fucking crazy?”

I shrugged. “I thought we figured that out years ago.”

“How am I supposed to keep this from Dean? He'll figure it out! He always does!” He paced in front of me, frantic, unsure of what to do with himself.

I stood as still as I could trying to offset his anxiety. “I don't know, Sam. All I know is she's not going anywhere. So when Daryl, Ben, and I leave, she's stuck here by herself to do nothing but find a way to free Dean from that Mark. I made sure of it.”

“This is crazy.”

“Maybe, but right now it's all we got. I mean, if you want, I can keep researching, look for something else when I get home.”

His hazel eyes landed on me and he let out a heavy breath. “But you can't tell Jazzy. You told Dean you wouldn't.”

I nodded and chewed at my lip. I felt like I was the third or fourth wheel to Jazzy and Dean’s fucked up relationship. But it was the responsibility I assumed a while ago, even if by accident. “Eventually, Sam, we’re going to have to stop keeping their secrets from each other.”

He tilted his head to his side and took a small step toward me. “What do you mean?”

I brushed my hair out of my face and smiled, hiding away everything I wanted to say, every secret I wanted to spill. Today was not the day. “I just mean, eventually they're gonna have to talk with each other, deal with their shit.”

“And they will,” he said confidently, “after we get this Mark off of Dean.”

“Well, this is how we're going to do it.”

Daryl and Ben emerged from the distillery and joined Sam and me outside. Ben snarled as he walked past Sam and me to stand next to the rental he and Daryl drove in. It was for the best, though I was amazed that Ben didn't spit a string of profanities simply from seeing Sam. Growth.

“You guys heading home?” I asked Daryl as he stopped in front of us.

He scratched at the sweat beading on his brow and grunted. “Yes, are you returning with us?”

“Yeah, I've just got to take Sam back to the bunker, then I'll hit the road.”

He nodded, though I could sense there was more he wanted to say to me. He looked at Sam, determining if it was safe enough to share. Times like this made me wish I'd been a part of the pack bond. The pack could communicate silently, without speaking out loud due to the pack bonds.

“She worries for you,” he said, curtly. There was no doubt in my mind about who _she_ was. Anxiety fluttered in my gut at the quick realization that I still had to face her. She'll be pissed, and rightfully so, but I wasn't quite ready to talk to her and keep more secrets from her. “She would like to, uh, speak with you.”

I ignored Sam’s laser-focused gaze boring into my cheeks. I didn't dare turn and feed into his questioning gaze. Instead, I raised my shoulder. “Let her know I'll see her first thing when I get home.”

“You could let her know yourself,” Daryl griped. He wasn't wrong, but it didn't mean I'd do it. Daryl didn't wait for my response. He flashed Sam a quick glare and joined Ben at his car. “Take care of yourself on that road, Zephyra,” he called. “And answer the damn phone when I call!”

My lips stretched, grinning as they drove off down the dirt road. Not long after, I huffed and started for the Beetle. “You sure you don't want to drive?” I asked, wondering if driving would be easier on his knees.

He shook his head, hair tangling in his eyelashes. “No way in hell am I getting behind the wheel of this thing.”

He climbed in and I drove him back to the bunker. A part of me didn't want to leave when I dropped him off. I knew the bunker was safe, and I knew it was one place Jazzy wouldn't show up to in order to kick my ass into oblivion, but I had to get back to her. I had to go home.

I rolled down the windows and blasted music as I drove Mercy’s raggedy-ass Beetle back to Finley.


End file.
